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INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 

DURING AMERICA'S FIRST YEAR OF WAR 



ELIZABETH H. ASHE 

u 
CHIEF NURSE OF CHILDREN'S BUREAU 
DEPARTMENT OF CIVIL AFFAIRS 
AMERICAN RED CROSS 



PHILOPOLIS PRESS 

SAN FRANCISCO. CALIFORNIA 
1918 






COPYRIGHT 1918 

BY 
PHILOPOLIS PRESS 



DEC ~5 1918 

©CLA508423 



INTRODUCTION 

These letters, written without thought of publication, are 
now printed in the belief that the reader may find in them a 
source of inspiration and comfort. 

The writer has served for years in ways which have peculi- 
arly fitted her for her present duties. As the founder of the 
Telegraph Hill Neighborhood Association in San Francisco and 
the Bothin Convalescent Home for women and children in 
Marin County, California, she has successfully met many of the 
same problems of organization for the relief of suffering which 
now confront the Children's Bureau of the American Red Cross 
in France. Thus from her knowledge of the sick and neglected 
at her own door she has been enabled to deal wisely and gener- 
ously with those whom she now serves. 

From the beginning of the war her desire for active service 
in France has been great, and as early as October, 1914, she 
offered her services to the New York representatives of the 
American Red Cross but was not then needed for overseas duty. 

When America entered the war she again volunteered for 
active service with the National Red Cross Nursing Service, but 
being past the prescribed age limit was not accepted. Finally, 
however, having passed all tests, she signed for duty with Base 
Hospital 30 formed at the University of California Hospital, 
San Francisco and was awaiting her orders in June, 1917, when 
Dr. William Palmer Lucas returned from Washington where he 
had been called to form the first pediatric unit to be sent to 
France. The great need of the work is described in the extract 
from the American Red Cross Bulletin printed on the following 
page. 

Dr. Lucas realized the vital importance of the nursing ser- 
vice to the success of the undertaking, and knowing her ability 
and experience, urged upon Miss Ashe her acceptance of the 
task of organization. Her prompt response to his demand and 



4 INTRODUCTION 

their combined efforts, made possible her necessary transfer 
from the Base Hospital Service. 

The terse, vivid sentences of the letters picture as more 
studied phrases might fail to do, the scenes of suffering and the 
opportunities for service as they present themselves to the 
writer. Written under the stress of work and to those closest 
in her confidence, they bear the imprint of her character. 

No editing of the extracts has been possible. To have at- 
tempted this would have been to mar the essence of their 
strength; that strength which comes from the simplicity of a 
great purpose deepened and ennobled by the vision of the un- 
conquerable soul of France. 

A. G. 



EXTRACT FROM AMERICAN RED CROSS 
BULLETIN 

A group of specialists in infant welfare has been sent to 
France by the American Red Cross. At its head is Dr. William 
P. Lucas, professor of pediatrics in the University of California, 
and the originator of the "Save a Belgian Baby" movement. 

Before the war the birth rate and death rate in France were 
so nearly equal that publicists voiced their concern over the 
future of the national life. Last year, however, with the death 
rate probably over 20 per 1,000, not counting deaths of men in 
military service, the birth rate was officially estimated at only 
8 per 1,000. In New York State the birth rate is 23 or 24 per 
1,000, the death rate about 14 per 1,000. 

The total deaths in France in 1916 were about 1,100,000. 
Births numbered only 312,000. The net loss in population was 
788,000, or nearly 2% of the whole. In Paris, where 48,917 
babies were bom in the year ending August 1, 1914, only 26,179 
were born in the second year of the war, ending August 1, 1916. 

"There is a crying need for effective work among children," 
cables Major Grayson M. P. Murphy, head of the American Red 
Cross Commission now in France. He reports that there is a 
great need for doctors and nurses for work with mothers and 
children, and the Infant Welfare Unit will be prepared to g^ve 
such immediate relief as it can. 

With Dr. Lucas in the Unit, which was financed by Mrs. 
William Lowell Putnam of Boston, are Dr. J. Morris Slemons, 
of the Yale Medical School, one of the best known of obstetri- 
cians; Dr. Julius Parker Sedgwick, physiological chemist, pro- 
fessor at the University of Minnesota; Dr. John C. Baldwin, 
specialist in diseases of children; Dr. Clain F. Gelston, Dr. 
Lucas's assistant at the University of California; Dr. N. O. 
Pearce, another specialist, and the following experts in sociology 
and child welfare work; Mrs. J. Morris Slemons, Mrs. William 



6 EXTRACT FROM AMERICAN RED CROSS BULLETIN 

P. Lucas, Miss Elizabeth Ashe, and Miss Rosamund Gilder, 
daughter of the poet. 

These specialists will survey the situation and study the 
work already being done by the French, and will practice with- 
out receiving compensation from patients. The task before the 
Red Cross, which will be carried out by this and succeeding 
units, is not only to co-operate with French specialists, but 
also to carry on a general educational campaign among French 
mothers in the interest of better prenatal hygiene and scientific 
feeding and care of the babies. Special efforts will be made to 
protect children from tubercular infection which is particularly 
threatening France today as a result of trench warfare. 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 

Washington, July 12, 1917. 
To L. McL. 

I have had such an exciting day. As I entered the hotel this 
morning, Dr. Lucas was at the telephone asking for me. The 
telegram I sent him en route settled everything. He took it to 
the Red Cross headquarters and Miss Delano immediately 
agreed to let him send for me. The "Commission," as it is 
called, consists of twelve doctors with big reputations, Mrs. 
Lucas, Mrs. Slemons (one of the doctor's wives), and myself 
I am to organize the nursing end of it. I went at once 
to the Red Cross building and had long conferences with 
the heads — Miss Delano soon got an idea that I knew every one 
on earth, because our talk was first interrupted by Miss H. 
Draper, an old friend of Cousin Loyall's and head of the New 
York Red Cross, and about ten minutes later by Sadie Murray 
who, of course, fell into my arms, then a note was brought in 
from Mrs. Newlands asking me to dinner, where I am going in 
about ten minutes. I did not go to the Grafton but am at a 
little place near by where the Lucases are, just like the Haven! 
We are beautifully taken care of by a negro couple — breakfast 
in our rooms! 

It is lovely here now. I have never seen Washington in her 
summer clothes before, but it is very hot. I am so disgusted 
that I had all those white dresses made. The Red Cross has 
supplied me with a whole outfit, dresses, aprons, coat, cape and 
caps. 

I think we will have a very interesting time making the sur- 
vey for about two months before the real work begins. Mrs. 
Lucas is to have moving pictures of it all for publicity. I have 
had very little conversation with Dr. Lucas so far. I have 
found out that there is little chance of the University of Cali- 
fornia Base Hospital Unit going to France, so I am glad I am 
out of it. 



8 INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 

Of course much of my time has been spent at the Red Cross 
building with Miss Delano and Miss Noyes — the former is fine 
— 72 years old but very well preserved. Miss Noyes is my real 
chief. However, when all is said and done, they frankly say 
our mission is a new one to them all; they have no instructions 
to give me — we have to work it all out. 

After lunch yesterday I went to the House and heard an 
interesting speech on Aviation and then called on Jeanette Ran- 
kin who greeted me with open arms and asked almost immedi- 
ately for Peter who was a great friend of hers. She is very 
disapproving of these militant suffragettes, thinks it is harming 
the cause and says Mrs. Park thinks likewise. 

I called on Cousin Sam — he is an old dear, the very image of 
our old portrait of Grandpa Ashe. I picked him out among a 
crowd of men from the likeness. His features are small. He 
says he considers the President a great man, although he has 
not always approved of his policies. For instance he said 
"When the Lusitania went down, I would have written the 
Kaiser and said: *Sir, you are unfit for me in the future to com- 
municate with,'" or something to that effect. He said that 
greatness consisted in having the vision to see the right thing 
to do, although it might appear to the world to be unwise at the 
time. He has a son in the navy who is now on one of our 
destroyers, he touches on the coast of Ireland. I overstayed my 
time talking to the dear old man and rushed madly to lunch 
with George Scott, who is perfectly splendid. He is in the 
supply department of the Red Cross representing Chicago. He 
gave us two beautiful lunches at the Shoreham where we saw 
all the celebrities. Yesterday Mr. and Mrs. Cook, the presi- 
dent of the Erie R. R., lunched with us. I mention this just 
to give you an idea of the men who are giving their whole 
time to the Government now. 

Dr. Lucas is working hard on lists and I am helping him — 
dispensary outfits — ^he may even organize children's hospitals. 
His orders are very general at present, a survey must be made, 
but as nearly as he knov/s at present the work is to be done 
in the large centers, Paris, Bordeaux, Lyons, etc., not in the 
devasted districts. I am to organize the nurses. 

We expect at present to sail on the St. Louis the 21st, for 
Liverpool, to leave there just as soon as possible. I hope to get 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 9 

off to New York this evening on a midnight train, spend a day 
there, tomorrow take the midnight train to Bath, have one day 
with Millie and return that same night to New York. 



New York, July 19, 1917. 
To L. McL. 

I moved to the Presbyterian Hospital this morning, found a 
lovely greeting from Miss Maxwell. It is very hot in New York, 
much more lifeless than Washington. It will be good to get to 
sea. I spent this entire morning getting my uniforms. I am 
taking two serge suits, as most of my work will be out of doors. 
It is very good looking, the hat becoming, dark blue velour; 
the bright red brassards on the sleeves of the coat and suit give 
it a very gay appearance. Miss Maxwell will be a great help 
to me, she is so full of enthusiasm and interest in the work. 
Two of our finest women in the nursing profession are on the 
National Council of Defense and are working day and night in 
Washington over it. I think it is splendid — Miss Beard and 
Miss Crandall — Alice will know them. 

I am delighted with Rosamund Gilder, she is so thoughtful, 
helpful and intelligent, full of fun, too. She is about twenty- 
five years old, speaks French fluently, is to be Dr. Lucas' secre- 
tary. 



S. S. "St. Louis," Sunday, July 22, 1917. 
To L. McL. 

We are out in the harbor waiting for our convoy. It was 
quite thrilling when steam was actually up and we were off. I 
have to pinch myself to know it is really I. 

I must tell you the amusing thing that happened this morn- 
ing. I was sitting quietly writing in a comer of the waiting 
room, keeping an eye on the desk where passengers showed 
passports, etc. Suddenly an agitated woman appeared urging 
for admission to the pier, holding in her hand a very attractive 
package which she was trying frantically to have delivered to 
a passenger, the man refused to have anything to do with it. 
Finally as she turned away in despair, I followed her and said 



10 INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 

I would be glad to deliver it, if it is not too valuable. She 
jumped at the chance and I found it marked "Miss Betty Ashe 
from Dorothy Coffin," who had come too late to see me. Miss 
Maxwell sent a probationer flying with it, who turned out to be 
a friend of Mrs. Casserly's, it pays to be obliging. 

This steamer is well protected with guns; the men are now 
dragging huge shells before us and the Red Cross has provided 
us with wonderful life preservers. 

Did I tell you that Miss Maxwell, in introducing me to a 
group of nurses, told them that I had humanized her training 
school, had showed them that all nurses did not have to be 
made after the same pattern. I felt that I had not lived in vain. 
I asked her subsequently what she thought the effect had been 
in the quality of the nurses turned out. Her answer was: "May- 
be not as finished nurses but women better able to fill executive 
positions." 

Miss Maxwell has given me splendid letters — seems to know 
all the important people from New York who are doing work 
in France. I wish that you had been with me in New York, it 
was a wonderful sight, especially down town. Old Trinity is 
draped with flags and looking from there down Wall Street is a 
thrilling sight to my mind. Dorothy Coffin and I visited the 
Nurses' Club, built for them by the Y. W. C. A., it is a twelve- 
story building wonderfully arranged with single rooms, beauti- 
ful library, reception rooms, restaurant, etc., roof garden and 
out of doors dining room. They certainly do things on a big 
scale in New York. Mr. Smith had a check for $200,000 drop 
into his lap for a school in which he is interested, and he didn't 
think much of it. 

It was not possible for me to send the first part of my letter 
back and now we are in the middle of the 4th day of our 
journey. So far the sea has been like a lake, no one ill and all 
glad to relax after the past strenuous weeks. We are all full 
of para typhoid germs, which make one feel inactive. It is 
rumored that we are to go directly to France, which would be 
a disappointment as we would all like a few days in London, 
The only excitements we have had are gun practices which 
make such terrific noise and brings realization of the state of 
war, and walking the decks at night in the pitch blackness, not 
a light showing, it is really very spooky. 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 11 



Monday. 

Just how much I can tell you of yesterday's attack I don't 
know, but we tumbled out at 7 a. m., clad hastily — my carefully 
thought out costume being the green sweater, black knickers 
covered by a skirt fastened by one hook which I intended to 
drop if we took to life boats. This was all surmounted by Miss 
Glider's tarn o'shanter. It seemed so strange to be discussing 
clothes at the most exciting crisis of one's Ufe. All of this was 
surrounded by a life preserver. The firing lasted about thirty 
minutes. 

The shots went all over and around us, but except for a few 
broken windows, no damage was done — and we met a White 
Star liner making straight for the U boat; much signalling was 

done from our boat. We certainly are living in . Have seen 

any number of mine sweepers. 

The coast is very lovely. With glasses we can see quaint 
houses and we smell the new mown hay. We will all be glad 
to be on terra firma again, although I wouldn't have missed the 
experience for anything. 

We are making fast for Liverpool after a delay of mo.*e 
than twenty-four hours. Two convoys are still with us. 



London, August 2, 1917. 
To A. G. 

It is certainly very difficult to write in the midst of many 
distracting things, at the same time I am eager to do so, as I 
know that everything I see and hear would be of great interest 
to you, as they are to me. 

We visited yesterday a most interesting woman, who is the 
General Secretary of Infant Welfare Work. This work has in- 
creased enormously during the war. The interesting part of it 
is that these classes are only held for well mothers and babies, 
no sick ones admited, they are referred to the dispensaries. 
They say that the combination never works even in the same 
building, with classes held at different times. I am enclosing 
the card used which I think would be economical for us instead 
of books, where it is a feeding case. 



12 INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 

Although many places are closed here there is more to be 
seen than we can possibly arrange for in our short stay, as we 
are investigating all the welfare work possible. We really 
have not made a beginning educationally speaking. Every 
birth is reported to the center, a nurse immediately visits and 
tries to interest the mothers, etc. The doctors are paid for 
their services; this is also the case in Baltimore where this 
same work is done, even more extensively than here. Of 
course in both places they are not dealing with a strictly 
foreign population, as we are. 

I spent the morning at the Royal Academy, the only public 
place open. Between the suffragettes and the war, all the art 
treasures have been concealed; has the world gone mad? The 
Turners are still exhibited so I spent a delightful morning with 
them. 

We have just come from the Abbey where we attended a 
wonderful service commemorating the entry of England into 
the war. The King and Queen and little Prince George were 
present, which, of course, drew a big crowd. The old verger 
gave me a tip several days ago as to which door to go in at, 
in order not to have to wait too long. The Archbishop of 
Canterbury preached an excellent sermon in which he spoke 
most feelingly of America going in. When we first went into 
the Abbey, the sight of files of maimed and lame men coming 
in overcame me so I thought I should have to leave, but they 
finally were seated, and were forgotten in the beauty of the 
service. One poor fellow who was legless, was brought in on 
the back of a man — ^it is all too dreadful. These British soldiers 
are a magnificent set of men. I can not always distin- 
guish between the English and Colonials, but they all look 
fine, even when disabled, and so bright and courageous, it 
thrills one. 

The Canon read most beautifully and impressively the 35th 
chapter of Isaiah. I was very much impressed by the beauty 
of the place, the simplicity of the service and the lovely music 
— the boys' voices were like an angel choir. 

Last night we went to Hyde Park and listened to the band. 
It was fun watching the people. Nearly every man is in uni- 
form and they all differ a little, enough to make an effect of 
color. Saturday night we went to the Haymarket Theatre to 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 13 

see "General Post," an excellent war comedy showing the effect 
of the war on snobbery. 

From all I hear I fear we are up against a very hard proposi- 
tion. Unless we receive much co-operation from the French 
Government, we can't do much, but Dr. Lucas thinks that has 
already been arranged. Everyone thinks the need is very great. 

From what I hear it is thought that the end of the war is 
far off, all kinds of preparations are being made by Americans 
for the care of their wounded and nurses. A beautiful big club- 
house is ready for nurses returning from the front to rest — 
they can live there. Mrs. Reid is foremost in its management, 
she is working very hard. 

I am very much impressed by the fine big men one sees in 
uniform, splendid looking fellows, not all English, many terri- 
torials, as they call them, and all looking so happy and bright 
although few walk without either crutches or a limp. 

London is certainly a fascinating place and I hope some day 
I can be here when war is a far distant memory, but it will not 
be in my life time that these terrible scars can be effaced. It is 
truly heart breaking. 

It is already four days since I began my letter, and it has 
been quite impossible for me to go on with it before now, 
between sight seeing and investigating the welfare work, I have 
been kept on the go, and am too tired to write at night. I shall 
try to confine my letters to you to the welfare end of it, and tell 
Linie of the sight seeing, she will be sure to pass on the letters 
to you. Dr. Lucas finds out everything, so we will have good 
opportunities to see things. On the whole the hospital and 
nursing is not done as well as ours, but it is quite amazing how 
well they have adapted these old houses to their new needs, and 
it is all so attractively done. For instance, in a nursery I was 
in, one room was done in French blue and white, curtains, 
covers, and babies, and in another all pink, curtains, babies, etc., 
the effect was really charming. The mothers work in munitions, 
in fact so many women seem to v/ork in munitions that I think 
they must be manufacturing enough combustibles to blow up 
the world. The place that interested me the most was a tiny 
babies* hospital in a poor neighborhood, to save the babies 
whose mothers would not send them to big hospitals, it is some- 
thing that I have always longed for. 



14 INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 

When I see what is being done here for the people in the 
midst of all the calls made on everyone for war relief, it makes 
me feel so discouraged about the poverty stricken condition of 
our home charities, not one decently supported. It is really 
inexcusable. We have three district nurses to the entire city, 
and I am wondering who is helping Miss Johnson. 

There has been endless fuss about our passports. Mine is 
in order as a Red Cross nurse, but Mrs. Lucas and Miss Gilder 
have a doubtful position, and are rather suspicious characters 
from the French point of view. I do hope we will get off by 
Sunday, as I feel we are wasting time and money as our party 
of twelve are here at the Red Cross expense. This morning I 
made a round with the District Nurse; what would please you 
would be to see the poorest children looking so well nourished. 
Everyone says this is the result of better wages. I hear that 
there is more drinking among the women, who fill the public 
houses. The District Nurse's hours are from 10 a. m. to 10 p. m., 
with about two hours off for meals. No time off during the 
week, not even Sundays, I do not see how they stand it. 

Lady Ward (Jean Reid) has built a splendid place for Ameri- 
can soldiers, it is under the Y. M. C. A. It is a sort of portable 
house or cluster of houses or huts. This American house or 
group has sleeping and eating capacity for 800 men. It is very 
simple but beautifully done, such pretty curtains, furniture 
coverings, etc. I was especially taken with the tables which I 
would like to imitate for the Farm. The tops are tiled, so much 
prettier than oil cloth. I do not know how they will look after 
hard use, but it would be pretty to have a green table under 
the trees. 

This afternoon I visited Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens. 
It is perfectly dear and the children flock about him. It did my 
heart good to see all these poor children in these beautiful 
gardens, and so accessible to them. These London parks in 
the midst of this crowded city are truly wonderful, and we can 
not afford it in San Freuicisco. What a lost opportunity! 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 15 



London, August 9, 1917. 
To L. McL. 

This idea that 60 per cent of the letters are lost is very dis- 
couraging to the pen of a ready writer. You told me that in 
order to impress on me the importance of writing often. 

I have had a most interesting week, we struck the first bank 
holiday which has been given since the war began, but London 
instead of leaving town in hordes stayed at home, as the train 
service is so poor at present that traveling is no pleasure. Well, 
in the early morning I sneaked ofif from the crowd. I took 
my guide book and sallied forth to see the town. It was most 
interesting to see London in holiday attire, literally turned out 
into the streets — 5,000,000 people wandering about. The first 
thing I struck was the change of guard at Buckingham Palace. 
I made friends there with an old soldier pensioner from the 
Chelsea Soldiers' Home. He was dressed in a bright red cloth 
coat and covered with medals. He attached himself to me and 
acted as my guide, between us we attracted much attention, as 
our R. C. uniforms always do anyway. They are an open 
sesame to everything, no fees at the public amusements, army 
and navy stores open to us, etc., and the police are endless in 
their patience in answering questions. After seeing the Horse 
Guards prance and listening to the band play, I made my way 
to London Bridge guided by the old man. I wandered about 
in a poor district there, talked to the people and had a most 
interesting morning. It is very touching the way people come 
up to me and say, "God bless the Americans for coming to our 
help." The mass of people here certainly do appreciate what 
we are doing. Sometimes they say, "Write to the people at 
home and thank them for us." 

Food is not any higher here than at home, except sugar, 
which is more difficult to get. Prices in the restaurants are not 
as high as ours, for instance, I had a golden buck, cup of coffee 
with milk, oat-cake, very large, and apple tart for lunch, cost 
30 cents. Except in the really swell places things are not nearly 
so well served or so clean, the mussiest looking girls wait, 
never clean, in fact we find the standard of cleanliness nowhere 
up to ours — ^hospitals or anywhere — no evidence of the vacuum 
cleaner. 



16 INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 

I have the greatest admiration for the Englishwoman in 
this war work. We visited a Tommies' Club at midnight after 
the theatre, and there we found a shift, women volunteers who 
had just come on, their hours were 11 p. m. till 6 a. m. — serving 
food all night long. The troop trains arrive at all hours of the 
night. Alice would love the boy scouts, who are very much in 
evidence, so much more attractively dressed than ours. They 
wear different colored sweaters of the home-spun t3rpe, short 
stockings to match and trousers of the same color in serge; 
each troop has its own color, a big colored handkerchief is 
knotted around the neck and they are covered with insignit; 
what is more, one rarely sees a boy under 14 with a hat on, and 
then only a school cap. I have written these details for Alice's 
benefit. One sees women frequently running elevators in cos- 
tumes just like Bobby's riding breeches and coat. 

(On back page:) 

I overlooked this page — will write on it an ad. 
"10,000 women wanted for farm work. Free 
outfit — ^high boots, overall breeches and 
hat. 18 shillings a week and maintenance." 



Paris, August 12, 1917. 
To A. G. 

Here we are at last, just three weeks from the day we 
sailed. We had quite a comfortable trip from London by way 
of Southampton and Havre. We were fortunate enough to get 
through the Custom House very rapidly, so were able to catch 
an early train from Havre reaching Paris at 12 mid-day instead 
of 10 p. m. which we feared. 



August 14 
Still no letters from home, although I have received some 
from Bath and New York. I have had two most interesting 
days. We spent the afternoon with Mrs. Bliss, such an inter- 
esting woman who seems to thoroughly understand the people. 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 17 

She is most enthusiastic over the French. They say Paris is 
fiUed with people eager to work with nothing to do, very much 
as It IS with us. We will probably go to the front on Thursday, 
and then I believe it will be very difficult to get letters through 
My French is going pretty well, I seem to have a perfectly 
good workmg knowledge of it. I can see much to be done for 
children here; two of our staff will go to work immediately in 
Pans working with the Rockefeller people who are going to 
estabhsh tubercular dispensaries wherever possible 

While we are waiting for the police to put us through the 
third degree in questions before going to the front, I will try 
to get off this letter as I do not know when you will receive 
another, when once we get into the fighting district. This 
place we are going to is about 10 miles from the firing line. 
Most fortunately Miss Schofield and Miss Fell returned last 
mght. Miss Schofield knew the one woman who understands 
social service work. She is eager for Dr. Lucas to estabhsh 
a traming school for district nurses in Paris with a hospital 
attached. She already has two hundred trained nurses in the 
field scattered over France, the wives of officers and people of 
mtelhgence. All these people think we can thus fill the biggest 
need here at present and it would be constructive work It 
distresses me that Dr. Lucas is to be with us such a short time. 
To answer one of your questions. Dr. Lucas has complete 
charge of the medical end of the civilian work. Dr. MiUer from 
New York, who was in the Presbyterian Hospital when I was 
there, is doing tubercular work for the Rockefeller Institute 
and we hope to work together. They are the only men over 
here doing any civilian work. 

I attended a wonderful High Mass at Norte Dame for the 
Feast of the Assumption, heavenly music. But Paris has not 
the same fascination for me that London has. It seems more 
like a big exposition rather pooriy attended at present, of course 
this IS a four days' impression, although the individual things 
here are quite beautiful. I know this is heresy. 



18 INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 



Paris, Monday, August 13, 1917. 
To L. McL. 

While waiting developments at the American Red Cross 
I think I can get off a letter. The difficulty of seeing anyone 
here reminds me of the relief days in San Francisco. 

We arrived in Paris yesterday at noon after an uneventful 
trip across the channel. We left Southampton at 9 p. m. and 
arrived at Havre at 6 p. m. Travelling is full of interest as 
everyone is on some special work with a uniform to indicate 
it. We hear all kinds of expressions. My letters which I 
hoped to find at the Red Cross have been forwarded to the 
American Post Office No. 10 rue St. Anne, which I think you 
had better use in the future as it is more sure. Just before 
leaving London I was lucky enough through Mrs. Reid to get 
a ticket for the House of Commons. It is very difficult for 
women to get in since the suffrage raids. The subject of debate 
was compulsary school law for children under fourteen. It was 
quite amusing to hear all the old arguments against it rehashed 
as if it was all original. I was very much interested to see the 
Speaker of the House sitting on a raised dais in a long white 
wig, and below him to see the men sitting in the front benches 
with their heels higher than their heads on the center table 
before them. I thought that a purely American custom. Of 
course I have not been here long enough to see anything, but 
we walked yesterday up the Champs Elysee to the Arc de 
Triomphe and found it almost deserted. Every other woman 
you meet is in deep mourning, veils, etc. In London very few 
wear mourning and then the simplest black, no crepe veils seen, 
of course to my way of thinking the only sensible thing. 

Considering the agitation at home we have been particularly 
interested in the food question. We considered it very extrava- 
gantly used in London, and see no scarcity here. Sugar was 
difficult to get in England and bread also, but even in the poor 
sections I saw push carts covered with meat, fish and vege- 
tables at moderate prices, not screened in any way from the 
dirt of the street and flies. The poorest London children look 
well nourished, in fact the poor there have never been so well 
off as they are now. Food prices have gone up in proportion 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 19 

to the wage scale which is very high, but the drinking among 
the women has greatly increased. 

Later: — We have had a conference with the Red Cross heads 
and it has been decided that our party divide now, some to 
remain in Paris and others to go to the front. I am in the 
latter group. We are to go into the same district that Daisy 
Polk is working in, the district is large so we may not even 
touch her work, but it will give you an idea of our whereabouts 
I don't know how much I am permitted to write of it as yet. 



Somewhere in France, August 17, 1917. 
To L. McL. 

We are traveling through the valley of the Mame. You 
can not conceive of anything more peaceful and beautiful, in 
spite of the occasional encampment we see and the guns peep- 
ing from every bush. The fields are being beautifully cultivated, 
the harvest going on and the crops look good to me — it only 
impresses us more and more with the frightfulness of it all. 
We see the women toiling in the fields, the soldiers washing 
their clothes at the river bank and such a lovely peaceful river. 
We hear a good deal of our troops. Mr. Miel is working 
with our army, they are so short of tobacco, although the 
New York Sun has raised an enormous sum to supply it — 
I thing $300,000— but it is difficult to get it over. When 
the agent arrives he is mobbed. He gave us a graphic 
account of his arrival in one camp where the men were in 
swimming, they simply mobbed him in their birthday clothes. 
Of course he wanted a movie of it, but was interfered with, 
can you imagine the scandal of that? I hate to write to you in 
pencil but I have to squeeze in letters. 

What the Y. M. C. A. say is needed more than anything else 
with our boys is women's good influence, carefully selected, 
women to run canteens and really mother them. It must be 
done and soon I should think. We delayed half a day in 
Paris and as I was all packed and ready to leave I took the 
afternoon off and went to Versailles. It was one of those per- 
fect evenings, wonderful cloud effects. We dined close to the 
lagoon in which was reflected the clouds and the colors of the 



20 INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 

setting sun. The only evidence of war there was the gardens 
planted with beans — the effect was very good — more pleasing 
to my eye than formal flower beds. 

We are traveling very comfortably into this war zone, a 
carriage to ourselves and diner, which will serve us a lunch at 
12:30. 

Please forgive me if I am terribly disconnected, but I jot 
down little things as they occur to me. You must realize that 
we are in uniform all the time which paves the way for us, it 
is really an open sesame. Last night such a touching incident 
occurred. When we returned from Versailles on the street car 
we found that it only went to the fortifications. It was pitch 
black night, 9:30. The woman conductor assured us that we 
could go the rest of the way Metro. When we descended from 
the car into pitchy blackness I was scared. The woman real- 
ized our uncertainty and sent a little boy to show the way... We 
walked at least a mile through narrow black streets. I con- 
versed with the little boy, aged 12, who told me that he worked 
12 hours every day in a machine shop. Although his poor little 
legs must have been awfully tired, when I offered him a tip he 
refused, looking at my Red Cross, and said "No, Madame, c'est 
pour les blesses." 

We now see the White Road to Verdun. It all seems like 
a dream to be here at times, am I dreaming or is it real? 

I fear I won't be allowed to settle in one place and work 
as the scheme is such a big one that all that I am supposed to 
do is to get different groups started. It will be a very difficult 
matter as we may meet with much local opposition from the 
village doctor, etc., but our field of operation may extend from 
one end of France to the other. I have a passport which takes 
me anywhere in the war zone. Our headquarters will be in 
Paris where we have to establish a school of district nurses in 
the near future with a small hospital attached for demonstra- 
tion purposes. I didn't see Dick in Paris or hear of him. 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 21 



Somewhere in France, August 17, 1917. 
To A. G. 

If you could behold us now! Mrs. Lucas and I are in the 
bar-room of the hotel, sitting at one of the little tables. 

We can not tear ourselves away from the exciting events 
around us. Every little while the syrens blow which means 
shells are flying and we are warned to get under cover; when 
the tocsin sounds to seek the cellar. The hotel woman says it 
is very inconvenient in the middle of the night. We rushed 
into the street to see the German taubes which look like white 
puff balls. The town is filled with men, scarcely a woman in 
sight. It is surrounded by a wall and moat, one can not pass 
in or out without a military passport. 

We inspected the refuge camp today which contains about 
three hundred children aged from two months to twelve years, 
and forty women. It has only been open two weeks and is 
really a herculean task. The place was an old barracks before 
and thoroughly infected, just as the old farmhouse was at 
Bothin. The floors deep in mud and dirt, and the children 
covered with impetigo and pediculosis. Several of the children 
have been badly wounded, one poor little chap with his eye 
blown out and his face badly disfigured. We saw a woman who 
was here for a few days' rest, she works in the fields at night 
with a helmet and gas mask, because the shells drop on her 
so in the day time she can not work. She has a baby two 
months old whom she leaves in this refuge. One of the women 
said she was so glad her boy was here because he was so 
naughty he would not wear his gas mask. I am dying to get 
into the place and help clean up. They are badly in need of a 
nurse there. All the helpers are first aiders, who are doing 
wonderfully, but who do not understand impetigo, feeding, etc., 
you know well what I mean. Dr. Lucas really needs my help 
too much to leave me here, but I think someone will have to be 
sent immediately. The expenses of the place are met by the 
State, but of course they can not supply everything. The Red 
Cross must help out. We have not met the wonderful prefect 
yet, his name is Mirman. His work is described in Arthur 
Gleason's book— "One part in the Great War." 



22 INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 



Somewhere in France, August 19, 1917. 
To A. G. 

After writing last Thursday the Tocsin sounded and the 
fearsome took to the cellar, the rest of the town turned out to 
see the show. I figured it is as dangerous as crossing Market 
Street. I watched the clouds of white smoke from the Boche 
and French planes. The night before Dr. Lucas had a wonder- 
ful view of the surrounding country lighted by huge search 
lights, some from the Exposition. All kinds of colored light 
signals were thrown. We are close here to Fort St. Michel and 
hear the big guns. We sit in front of the hotel and watch the 
endless stream of interesting passers-by, troops in all kinds of 
uniforms and peasants with their burdens. I am personally 
awfully discouraged today. 

We were to have passes to go to Nancy and environs, where 
the wonderful Mirman lives, and through the district where 
Daisy Polk works. Of course we were delighted and went off 
to the children's refuge to dinner. We watched from the hill 
there a most wonderful sun set followed by flashes from the big 
guns in the distance at St. Michel, Verdun — all so thrilling. 

After sealing my letter this afternoon I found we were going 
after all. Dr. Lucas decided to make the trip which is most 
important for him, as we visit the towns where the children are 
living underground, and his report to the Red Cross will be 
most valuable. There is a noble cathedral here and we are five 
miles from Joan of Arc's birth place. 



Paris, August 25, 1917. 
To A. G. 

Through some mistake in my passport I was kept in 
Toul two days. This has delayed my work. In the meantime 
I have got a very good picture of the general situation and if I 
were permitted would go straight ahead with rural district 
work. It is what is most needed. I would like to see a nurse 
settled among these poor people just as Daisy Polk is, she is 
doing real social work, living in a little cabin and was having 
a party for some of the older girls when we saw her. Dr. 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 23 

Lucas wants me to carry through another plan. Mile. 
Montimort, who is a perfectly charming French woman, has 
started a sort of district nurses* school, and she wants us to 
take it over and run it on American lines. It is a big con- 
structive work, but I do not think it could be done by me 
now. First, because a school is not built in a day, it must 
be a long, slow process, on good secure foundations, unless 
I had at least five free years ahead of me, I think it would 
be useless; secondly, I feel too old to launch a big undertak- 
ing of that kind, to revolutionize the nursing in France; 
thirdly, I think it should be done by a French woman trained 
in America for the purpose. It would really take months of 
study to organize to begin and in the meantime the children 
are crying for help. 

To give you some idea of what it means we would first have 
to organize and run a civil hospital of at least 150 beds where 
the nurses could be taught, and in order to do this all kinds of 
political problems must be met, also professional jealousies, 
and all by a total stranger. Mile. Montimort is the only per- 
son here, as far as I can see, who has any social ideas, in Paris 
I mean, she has a settlement and all these nurses working and 
is really a wonder, but no longer young either. The plan is 
for me to live with her at a woman's club and work the thing 
up. I am to begin tomorrow morning by making a survey of 
four districts in Paris to decide where we had best work. I 
am glad to do so, as I think one must understand Paris to 
understand France. To sum up our work so far it is just two 
weeks today since we arrived. We have inspected one district 
and left three men to work there, and one nurse — Mrs. Slem- 
mons. Dr. Baldwin has visited another, bringing back a cry for 
immediate relief. Dr. Gelston and Dr. Slemmons have stayed 
in Paris and found out some important things for us. We have 
made many valuable connections. 

When you write to ask me to tell you what to do to help 
I do not know what to say. From what I hear there seems to 
be plenty of undistributed clothing on hand, and every society 
at home clamoring to make more. Mile. Montimort, who has 
a big grasp of things, feels that the work of the "Fatherless 
Children" is wasted. She feels that adequate help should be 
given a few rather than so many poorly helped. She sees the 



24 INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 

problem just as we would do at home. The minimum for each 
child must be $10 per month at the present prices. 

I have a desk in the Red Cross main office and will be able 
to size up the situation better in a little while. 



Paris, September 1, 1917. 
To L. McL. 

This is a queer place to work in, it is quite impossible to 
transact any business between the hours of 12 and 2 p. m., so 
unless you meet people and talk business with them at the lunch 
hour, you simply must rest, as even the stenographers are off. 
I have one of the latter at my disposal which is very useful to 
me especially for spelling. I have just lunched with such an 
interesting woman, a Mrs. Post, I have a feeling I should 
know something about her. She has developed a wonderful 
piece of work in France for tuberculosis, has district nurses 
all over Brittany. I am to visit her in order to study her 
work. 

Dr. and Mrs. Lucas returned last night from Evian, on the 
border of Switzerland, where 1,000 refugees come through every 
day from Northern France. They say it was heart breaking to 
see them arrive, many tiny children coming, too young to tell 
their names, having been roughly separated from their parents. 
Long lines of refugees wait for every train, hoping that their 
loved ones will arrive, the most touching reunions take place. 
Many never find those they seek as the able bodied women are 
kept and the young children sent away, isn't it too horrible? 
The brutality of the German was again impressed on them by 
some English officers, forty of them who were passing through 
Lyons on their way home, exchanged prisoners, all physical 
wrecks. They told unbelievable tales of their treatment the 
first year. They would stand in line hours for food and just as 
they reached out a hand for a bowl of soup a German would 
spit into it, this was a common practice. Two of the men who 
were not wounded had operations in the muscles of their legs 
so that they would be stiff for all time, diabolical. Some of 
the men were such nervous wrecks from brutal treatment that 
they burst into tears if they were spoken to suddenly. 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 25 



Paris, September 3, 1917. 
To L. McL. 

I am just adding a few lines in pencil, as I have not a pen, 
to tell you that dear old Dick appeared on the scene this after- 
noon, to rejoice my heart with his happy smile, which is as 
cheerful and broad as ever. I have never seen him in better 
form, his uniform is most becoming to him. If he has to wait 
for several weeks before he is assigned to a regiment to get 
his uniform, etc., he is going to try to get over to England; it 
would be impossible for most people, but Dick seems to be able 
to put this through. I wish that you could hear him tell his 
adventures. We dined together last night, of course he is eager 
for home news. 

There are 800 American boys in the Camion Service, Dick 
says many of them are going in for aviation. I am thankful he 
is too heavy for it, you will be amazed that he says that his 
former vacation adventures did more to get him his commission 
than anything else. He was minutely questioned as to his past 
life, and the officer was delighted with his account of his vaca- 
tions. Can we ever tell in this life what counts? 



Somewhere in France, August 21, 1917. 
To A. G. 

I am going to write what I can of the wonderful day we 
had yesterday, not knowing what will go through, but I must 
try it. We were taken to the second line of defense, just think, 
only five miles from the Boches, by the way, if you say Alle- 
mand here, you are corrected. No other women have ever 
been so near the lines, even Miss Burke did not get beyond the 
forts, but we were between the forts and the Boche trenches. 
We visited several demolished villages en route, the object of 
our visit was to see the places where the children come from, 
count the number left behind, who all must wear gas masks 
which they often rebel at doing. No children under eight are 
left with their mothers, who work in the fields, sometimes at 
night, when the firing is too severe. The serenity and cheerful- 
ness which they display is marvelous. Their ruined homes did 



2§ INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 

not make the dreadful impression on me I anticipated, it is not 
a circumstance to our fire. Except where the churches are 
demolished, a social service worker can not help but feel that 
more sanitary buildings might be an improvement, the animals 
and people all live together. As far as food and clothes are 
concerned, they look well fed and clothed, but the/ filth is in- 
herent, not just the result of the war. But can you imagine 
anything more dreadful than a condition in the supposedly 
Christian world? Christ on his crucifix in many villages is the 
only thing erect, where women and little children by thousands 
must work in the fields under shell fire wearing gas masks to 
protect them from the fiendish brutality of their fellow men. 
The Americans are said to be responsible for the invention of 
submarines and areoplanes, but thank God, we are not respon- 
sible for the gas devil, but to return to my tale. 

On Monday morning we started on our trip in two cars sent 
to us by the field staff. We were very soon on the "White 
Road to Verdun" which name is well applied. I never saw a 
more beautiful boulevard road, and winding through such a 
lovely country. The cars simply went like lightning. I have 
never driven so fast, our first stop was made to say "How do 
you do" at stations where our ambulance boys are living in 
what I call a mess. Fourteen of them were off duty with some 
skin trouble, probably scabies. Fortunately the work was light 
just then. We soon proceeded to the demolished villages and 
met the various mayors, who generally met us pitchfork in 
hand, they seem to elect by vote the most decrepit man 
in the village, not that we saw any others, every abled bodied 
human being is at war, one never sees a youth, I don't know 
what has become of them unless they are all dead. The men 
in the army all look mature, which is quite different from the 
English. In London I saw so many boys in uniform who 
looked barely seventeen. The spirit of the French soldier 
seems fine, they are all smiles, even those we saw in the 
trenches. There is plenty of fight left in them yet. It seems to 
me as if they were all settled down to the business of war as 
if it were a regular business, and have no idea of its ever 
ceasing, the men really enjoy it I can understand it a little 
bit because when we were in our battle at sea, I felt quite 
thrilled and excited at all the noise and commotion, but I fear 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 27 

there is something inherent in human nature that likes a fight. 
The women seemed to be in a perfectly normal state of mind 
and it is very difficult to persuade them to leave for places of 
safety. The head of a shell factory right at the front told me 
that the first day 400 of the cowards left and that since that 
none had gone. He has about 15,000 left in his village. His 
factory is shelled every night, everyone regularly goes to sleep 
in the cellar and they all look remarkably well, the age of 
maturity here seems to be 7. All children under 8 are sent 
away to those huge asylums, but I will describe them another 
time. 

Between each village our cars went like mad, as the 
road was exposed to the enemy fire, we did not realize till 
afterward that the staff cars attracted attention to us. When 
we finally, after a mad dash, arrived at the second line, great 
was the surprise of the Colonel and the men who had never 
seen a woman there before. We were shown just how the 
wounded were given the first aid treatment. First, anti-tetanus 
toxin, then a simple dressing, followed by a dose of morhpine 
to help them on the journey. The surgeon was very grateful 
to the American Fund for French Wounded, for all they 
had done for them. We went into the trenches which 
are filthy holes which animals would refuse to live in 
and then were taken up a side hill into a dug-out where 
the colonel had a banquet spread for us, the table deco- 
rated with flowers and an orchestra playing. The banquet 
consisted of Saratoga potatoes, bread and tea, beer and 
champagne. Most touching compliments were paid to our 
country, and when the orchestra played "Home, Sweet Home" 
from Martha, not knowing its meaning to us, it was almost too 
much. A man with a beautiful voice who sings in one of the 
Paris churches sang pathetic songs of his beloved country, and 
altogether it was an occasion I shall never forget, although it 
was almost more than I could bear, the body of a headless man 
had been carried into their little morgue a few minutes before. 
All the time the frightful guns were thundering away and every 
time I jumped the men all laughed, thought it was a big joke. 
But the pleasure those lonely men got out of our visit was pa- 
thetic in itself. Soldiers kept arriving with huge bunches of 
golden-rod in honor of our country. The French certainly 



28 INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 

know how to be agreeable. On our return we stopped at several 
hospitals where the most serious cases are taken care of, not a 
woman nurse and that tells the tale, flies thick everywhere, but 
the men all smiles. I bought a quantity of cigarettes which 
they eagerly seized. So far I have spent all my money for 
cigarettes and toys. The appeal to my heart has come from 
the poor uncomfortable, badly cared for, helpless men and the 
hundreds of dull eyed listless looking children, sitting around 
in these huge asylums with nothing to do, nothing to play with, 
they really don't know how to play. I have bought jumping 
ropes, balls, etc., all things which demand activity. They must 
learn to play hard. I actually taught some boys to play leap 
frog, which they had never heard of. Our men are badly in 
need of base-balls, I beHeve the Y. M. C. A. have taken that up. 

As we sped home later that evening a shell just missed us 
on the road, and the mayor of one of the villeges told us the 
next day that four had fallen in the square just left. But J 
wouldn't have missed the trip for anything as all the reading w 
the world does not give you the true picture. 

I am sending this to Bath first as I know I will never repeat 
all this. 

P. S. I forgot to tell you that the cure's mother in one vil- 
lege was astonished to find we were not black, although Ameri- 
cans. 



Paris, Sept. 9, 1917 
To A. G. 

I have been through some poor districts and have a pretty 
fair idea of the Paris situation. I saw a place yesterday where 
three thousand refugees are housed in model tenements built by 
the City of Paris for poor people, and not quite completed be- 
fore the war. They were finished in a hurry and used for 
refugees. They are very light and well planned in a way, but 
no running water except kitchen sink and toilet; no light 
at night and no way to wash clothes as far as I could see. Of 
course these refugees are terribly crowded in them. Paris was 
in the act of building a number of these when the war broke 
out, homes for one couple and for families with from one to 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 29 

four children only. Two big tenements are for tubercular 
families. 

There is no doubt of the need of the work here; there is so 
much to be done that it is bewildering. 

The work is going much more smoothly, many tangles have 
been straightened out. 



Paris, Sept. 12, 1917. 
To A. G. 

I received your letter today saying you were sending me 
some money. Of course it is for me to spend for other people, 
the need for a special fund is so great. I suppose Red Cross 
red tape cannot be avoided when things come up. For instance, 
I gave $30.00 the other day to a Presbyterian Hospital nurse 
who has given her services since the beginning of the war to 
a place for children at Evian. She has never had any proper 
dispensary equipment. Dr. Lucas is going to take over the 
place but it may take two months to get it through. The poor 
woman seemed so tired and discouraged. 



Paris, Sept. 16, 1917. 
To A. G. 

I was glad to get your news of Miss Johnson. 

In all my travels I havn't seen a place which compared in 
charm to our Neighborhood House, or a nurse who could hold 
a candle to Miss Johnson. But tell her she is not needed over 
here, she might be dumped in one little corner and made to 
kick her heels for months or she might be overworked doing 
things other people could do better. 

I doubt if much fighting will take place between now and 
Spring, when our men are expected to come and take the brunt 
of it. Do refer enough to my letters when you write to let me 
know that you receive them, it is discouraging to write these 
long letters and never know whether they arrive or not. 

Yes, to answer one of your questions, that account in The 
"Times" was of our adventure. It was most exciting, in fact, 
the whole voyage was really thrilling. After the first two days 



30 INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 

out we came into a heavy fog and I can assure you that it was 
not comfortable going slowly through it with all lights out. I 
felt much more nervous about that than I did over the actual 
attack of the submarine which took place when we were seven 
days out, two days before we reached Belfast. We were 
awakened by firing at 7 a. m. I jumped up and began to put 
on the costume which I had decided on, black tights and a 
sweater with my skirt just hung on to me by one hook, so that 
I could drop it quickly. It was a bright, beautiful morning. 
The noise of the big guns which we were carrying was terriffic. 
Well, we very quickly arrived at the saloon where all the pas- 
sengers were shut up. I popped little Miss Gilder into one of 
those awful rubber suits and locked her in, they have huge 
metal clasps; then I put on one of the ship's preservers which 
I had decided to take my chances in, having been told that the 
rubber suits took up the place of three people in a boat. I have 
written all this before but you write that the pages were torn 
out. 

The exchange of shots lasted thirty minutes. We fired forty 
and the enemy fifty-five, many of which broke over us and close 
beside. We literally ran away and when we were out of gun 
shot, went down and ate our breakfast as if nothing had hap- 
pened. 

I was really more nervous in the Irish Channel when we 
were carefully making our way over mines with possible sub- 
marines at any minute, but this seems like ancient hisotry. 



Morlaix, Sept. 19, 1917. 
To A. G. 

I wrote you such a blue, discouraged letter Sunday that I 
am quite ashamed of myself today and hope that both letters 
reach you the same day. I have been here with Mrs. Post for 
four days and feel like a different person. She has organized 
a wonderful piece of work here in Brittany which shows that 
women of our age are still young enough to be of some use in 
the world. I won't tell you about her work because I will write 
a report of it for Dr. Lucas and I will send you a copy. 

You have been in my thoughts more than ever if possible 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 31 

since I have been here because I know that you love Brittany. 
Through the district nurses I have gotten into the heart of the 
country in the short time I have been here, in a way that I 
might not have done for months as a tourist. I have gone right 
into their homes, into houses built in the 14th century, too in- 
teresting and quaint for words, and filled with old carved 
furniture and wonderful clocks and china even in the homes 
of the poorest peasants. 

We have found them squatting on the ground before an 
open fire, the whole family eating from a big iron pot in the 
center. The nurses have taught them the danger of the in- 
fected ones eating from the same bowl and actually taught them 
to boil their own bowls and spoons. I was surprised to find 
how successful they have been in instructing. Mrs. Post has 
seven nurses scattered among the small towns near here. It 
has been very encouraging to me to feel that my coming has 
been a real help to Mrs. Post, who, before she undertook this 
work, a little less than a year ago, knew absolutely nothing 
about district nursing and was not even interested in it. She 
was working with Dr. Carrell, she had brought over a unit of 
six nurses to help him. Dr. Carrell became interested in the 
tuberculosis problem of France. Eminent French doctors met 
at his hospital to discuss the subject. They managed to get 
through some good tuberculosis laws and then the French Com- 
missioners begged Mrs. Post to start the ball rolling. She first 
positively decUned, but when they returned several months 
later for her help again, she very reluctantly consented and 
came here because it was the most infected spot in France. 
Miss Maxwell provided her with a nurse who really instructed 
her in the a-b-c's of district work. The nurse was obliged to 
leave her about six months ago and she has been groping ahead 
ever since, reading books and getting practical experience. You 
can imagine how glad she is to have such a sympathetic visitor 
as I am. 

Coming as I have from an office where any knowledge 
or experience I hay have counts for nothing, it is a double 
pleasure to me to study Mrs. Post's methods which are admir- 
able, and to give her suggestions which are helpful. For in- 
stance, she is converting an old place into a combination day 
camp for 150 people and hospital for research work. I was able 



3^ INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 

to plan for her the best places for her awnings, etc. Her idea 
had been that the more wind they were exposed to the better. 
She was just about to build a pavilion, just a roof and floor for 
a dining room in a most exposed place. I persuaded her not to 
build anything at present but arrange for the patients to have 
their meals indoors in a building on the place where they can 
be warm and comfortable while eating. Then we have had a 
great time in talking over the possibilities of her farm, 25 acres, 
of course I am urging Flemish hares, etc. Mrs. Post is very 
receptive and falls upon every idea with avidity. I am also 
urging pottery for the day camp people. It seems that the 
making of pottery has been given up in this neighborhood 
although the clay comes from here. She is enthusiastic at the 
idea of reviving the art. She can easily get a good potter to 
run it. 

I have seen such wonderful sun cures that I want to take off 
all the clothes of the children at the Farm and expose them to 
the sun. It has to be done with a good deal of care at first, 
gradually increasing the length of exposure. 



Sunday, Sept. 22 

I couldn't finish my letter at Morlaix, and here I am on the 
Paris train leaving Quimpere where we have been for two days. 
Mrs. Post returned to Morlaix last night. She has really done 
wonders here and of a permanent nature. It is the best single 
piece of public health work I ever seen done. I am charmed 
with Brittany, find the people much more attractive than the 
other French peasants I have seen, much cleaner, and of course, 
their costumes are fascinating. Yesterday was market day. 
I couldn't tear myself away from the spot. The women and 
little girls all wear black, except their caps. The day war was 
declared all colors were put away, but men wore bright colored 
jackets and mixed with the Zouaves in bright red and the sailors 
with their blue collars and red pompons, the market place was 
a gay sight. 

My entire trip interested me, it was such an opportunity to 
go into the homes of the peasants. Millie would have gone 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 33 

crazy over the furniture, and as for Mrs. Griffith (Adelaide), 
she would have forcibly removed much of it. The simplest 
peasants* homes filled with carved furniture trimmed with shin- 
ing brass, wonderful old clocks and china, or rather pottery, 
not much of the last. 

We paid nursing visits in houses dating from the 14th cen- 
tury, all spotlessly clean. The people speak very little French, 
so it makes the work more difficult. Mrs. Post has several 
nurses who speak Breton. The patients really follow out in- 
structions. They have 420 cases in the little town of Morlaix. 
They do no nursing except dressings; the idea being that 
they had to choose between real nursing and educational 
work — as it was impossible to do both. They teach one thing 
at a time, don't take the second step until the first is learned. 
For instance they don't at one and the same visit tell patients 
to guard sputum, open the windows, not drink coffee, to sleep 
alone, to boil their dishes, etc. 

We motored from village to village where the dispensaries 
are established, five in all, each village quainter than the last, 
all the surrounding country highly cultivated and all by women 
who work so hard they can no longer nurse the babies, and 
although it is a dairy country, such poor care is taken of the 
cows' milk that no one thinks of using milk that has not been 
boiled. I told Mrs. Post that until they tackled the milk and 
water question I thought their fight against tuberculosis was a 
hopeless one. There is more tuberculosis in Brittany than in 
any other part of France. 

Another fascinating sight was a pilgrimage to a "Pardon," 
as they call it. The mass was held in the open air, the altar 
being over a spot where some miracle was performed. It was 
touching to see the crowd of women and men in their quaint 
costumes kneeling there under the trees praying for Fremce, 
and their boys at the front. The last call has been made for 
boys from 17 to 19. 

I met the man who is the Grenfell of this coast. He has 
estabUshed hospitals, reading rooms, etc. I am returning to 
Paris renewed for the fray. 



34 INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 



Paris, September 26, 1917. 
To A. G. 

Since my return to Paris things have been very quiet as Dr. 
Lucas is away — the office is like a lull after a storm — ^not that 
he is at all stormy. On the contrary he is very quiet, but it 
means such a rush of business. You see our bureau is quite 
different from what Dr. Lucsa or any one expected. All the 
children's work in France has been thrust upon him, sick and 
well. He has to investigate and decide on all the aid given to 
already organized societies. It is really a herculean task. While 
our supplies, nurses, etc., are en route I am helping in this. I 
am happier now having something definite to do. 

The Finistere report will give you an idea of it. Of course 
it is not constructive work but I am glad to do something really 
useful. 

I am to inspect orphan asylums next week. I spend much 
time interviewing women. I think every misfit in France is 
steered to me and there are many. There is a whole group of 
people over here I really feel sorry for, they came a year or 
two ago as volunteers paying all their own expenses, now 
money has given out and they are stranded. The majority 
don't know enough French to be useful in our work, the army 
doesn't want them, the canteen people won't support them, as 
they can get shoals of non-pay people and here they are, some 
very clever, capable girls. Just at present France is over- 
stocked with army nurses. There has been so little fighting, 
some are being released to us, so far we have only landed one 
through the red tape but hope for more. 



Paris, October 9, 1917. 
To A. G. 

I am going to send you at least a short letter before leaving 
for Evian, where we are opening a big "oeuvre," as it is called 
here; it is really a tremendous undertaking to get going all at 
once. We have a big villa there with smaller houses attached 
for the nurses homes, etc. The hospital and dispensary are to be 
there, the dispensary to be open both day and night, as one 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 35 

train comes in at night. The idea is that we are to examine 
the children physically when they arrive; poor little things, 
more for them to go through at the end of their long, tragic 
journey, but it seems necessary. They arrive in such filthy 
condition that they have to be fumigated before they can be 
touched. We are to have a beautiful convalescent home at 
Lyon, a gift to the city before the war, but which has never 
been opened. I am full of enthusiasm because I see hopes of 
organizing the work. If there are any available French nurses 
in San Francisco who speak French, do make them telegraph 
to Miss Noyes. I would prefer the French than all the public 
health experience in the world. Public health work is really 
out of the question here pro tem. I am picking up some nurses 
from the army, who have been over here three years. 



Evian les Bains, October 12, 1917. 
To L. McL. 

Each time here in France you imagine that you have wit- 
nessed the depths of misery until you take the next step. It 
would be impossible for me with my poor descriptive powers 
to give you any picture of the arrival of the trains here twice 
a day bringing in "rapatries" from Belgium. These poor creat- 
ures arrive 500 at a time night and morning. You can imagine 
how dirty and tired they are after three days and nights on the 
crowded trains, no sleeping accommodations, the trains filled 
with paralyzed and decrepit old people and babies and children, 
up to twelve years. This morning an Old People's Home 
arrived, 150 old men, mostly blind and paralyzed. I carried 
two paralytic children from the train. As the train approaches 
the station the women lean out, wave and shout, "Vive la 
France 1" 

We have eight American ambulances here to meet the trains 
so the march to the Casino is not so painful as it was. The 
poor people have taken these long painful journeys three times, 
first from their village to another French town, then to Belgium, 
from Belgium here, and now they say "What next?" 

So many children get lost in the crowd and are so terribly 
frightened. A beautiful little girl arrived last night quite alone, 



36 INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 

a child of ten years, she was so pitifully frightened. It is little 
girls of that age that the horrors of war seem to have the worst 
effect on. It often stops their development. They have a 
strained, frightened look that is most pitiful. It is all wonder- 
fully arranged for them here by the Lyons, a Madame Gilet 
Motte organized the whole thing. She came when they first 
began this business to meet her niece, and was so horrified at 
the tragedy of it all that she has worked day and night ever 
since for these poor creatures. After leaving the train they are 
taken to the Casino. Last night it was a heart rending sight 
to see this long black procession of refugees marching along 
the winding road laden with bundles and babies, just hobbling 
along. 

The Casino is a huge place where they are all comfortably 
seated and fed. After dinner or breakfast as it may be the 
French official appears dressed in evening clothes, high silk 
hat and tricolor silk scarf with gold fringe around his waist, 
stands on a platform and makes a stirring speech of welcome, 
which is received with many tears and shouts of joy, and "Vive 
la France!" Then the national air is played by a band and the 
people march out to be ticketed. Each one wears a tag after 
that until he is finally placed, green tag for "no friends," pink 
for "relations expecting him somewhere in France," and white 
for "detained because of illness in his or her family.".. It is for 
the latter when it is a child that our hospital and convalescent 
home is being established. We have the most ideal villa, it 
was a hotel with modern plumbing. There are three buildings 
on the place which is on the edge of Lake Geneva. The first is 
a sort of outdoor pavilion, which will be an ideal place for the 
sun cure, a little higher up a nurses' home, a small house for 
servants and on the hill the hospital, which is ideal. We will 
commence with 100 beds. Mr. Cornelius Bliss is with us on this 
trip. He returns to Washington to report. He is very much 
impressed by everything. One would have a heart of stone not 
to be overcome. I don't know whether I will get to Lyons or 
not. 

I only heard yesterday of Douglas MacMonagle's death. He 
died, shot through the temple in an air battle — very gallantly. 

I wish I could get Frederica Otis over here. She would be 
a great help. The great difficulty we have is getting people to 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 37 

help with the children who speak French. Very few girls care 
to work with children, the blesses appeal more. For instance, 
Margaret Robins would be so much more help with children 
than in the military hospital. There are more people over here 
for that work than are needed, tell Miss Johnson this and tell 
her that if she doesn't speak French, she is useless in the chil- 
dren's work. Fortunately my work is organizing, so the French 
is not so important, I am really making progress. 



Evian, October 14, 1917. 
To A. G. 

I feel so exhausted after my morning's experience that I 
doubt if I can write much of a letter. I thought yesterday that 
nothing could be sadder than the sight of these poor families 
landing at Evian, homeless, penniless, and forlorn, but with joy 
in their faces at being again in France. The invariable answer 
is, when you ask them if they are fatigued after their three days 
of frightful discomfort, "I was, but now I am in France, all 
fatigue is forgotten." The worst of it is their troubles are 
anything but at an end. The difficulty of finding them home is 
almost unsurmountable. When you think of 1,000 people of all 
helpless ages arriving in one small town every day, you van 
imagine what it means. If they are not quickly moved on the 
congestion is terrific, so trains moving them in and moving 
them out are always being met by a stream of people, nurses, 
attendants and ambulances. Our ambulance men are doing 
fine work lifting the helpless in and out of the trains and ambu- 
lances. 



38 INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 



Later. On the Paris train, 8 a. m. 

I began this letter yesterday, just after meeting the train 
filled with 680 Belgium children under 12 years. It was the most 
tragic sight imaginable. Two-thirds of the children were taken 
from their parents and sent to France to be supported. The 
majority of the children arrived in a very excited, happy state 
of mind, shouting "Vive la France!" but many little girls wept 
bitterly. Little families with the little mother at the head 
clung together. They marched to the Casino where they were 
feted and given flags. After a good dinner, the Prefect made a 
speech of welcome, and then the National Anthem was played. 
You should have seen that mob of pathetic underfed, grimy, 
helpless infants, standing on the benches, waving their two 
flags violently and singing at the tops of their voices. It was a 
really heart-breaking sight, and quite too much for the older 
girls who put their heads in their arms and sobbed uncontrol- 
ably. These children were facing starvation and their mothers 
parted with them to save them. They leave Evian this evening 
to be scattered over France. The Belgian Government has 
charge of them. I was shocked to see many little boys of six 
or eight years marching by me calmly smoking cigarettes, and 
they were all given wine to drink at the dinner. 

I left Evian last night at 6 p. m. and had a horrible night, 
six of us sitting up in a compartment without a breath of air, 
door and windows tight closed. In the middle of the night we 
were routed out for a customs examination. Some chocolate 
was found in my bag which caused much trouble, and in fishing 
for some money to pay the customs one franc, it was dis- 
covered that I had some incriminating letters, so I was marched 
off by a soldier to another place. My passports were demanded 
and I was shut up in a little room while the letters were ex- 
amined. Of course they were nothing, but it was not comfort- 
able as I was alone. 

The Swiss frontier is to be closed for ten days. After that I 
understand the number of French coming in will be doubled. 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 39 



Paris, October 15, 1917. 
To C. A. S. 

I arrived in Paris" this morning, perfectly exhausted after 
sitting up all night fourteen hours in a closed compartment 
with five other people. We were lucky to get that, many slept 
on the floor in the corridor. 

We are opening a Children's Hospital of 100 beds at Evian. 
If you could get people to make flannelette nightgowns for us, 
we would be delighted, direct to Children's Hospital, Evian les 
Bains, Switzerland, care of American Red Cross. I think I 
wrote you that one thousand French people from the north of 
France, who had been deported to Belgium five months ago, 
arrive daily at Evian. It is a peculiar task to find lodgings for 
them, after a night or two at Evian and then find homes or 
friends for them all over France. The majority of them are 
perfectly helpless people, tiny babies carried oftentimes by 
sixteen-year-old mothers, Boche babies of course. This has 
been going on since last February, 500 at 6:30 a. m. and 500 at 
7 p. m. French women meet the trains, help the sick and feeble 
of whom there are many ambulance loads. As you look at this 
tragic sight poor creatures laden with their pitiful all, baskets 
filled with strange treasures, you find that it is the survival of 
the unfit; Germany's gift to France. To add horror to horror, 
on Sunday 680 Belgium children arrived, some of them were 
orphans but the majority of them have been taken from their 
families because their fathers have refused to work for the 
Germans. The poor little things arrived tired and forlorn after 
a three days' trip, but shouting at the top of their voices, "Vive 
la France!" French ladies distributed chocolates to them at 
the train and then they marched to the Casino, many of the 
boys singing but the litle girls were frightened and many of 
them wept. They had a dinner of meat and potatoes, which 
they considered a great treat with roasted chestnuts, chocolate 
and wine for dessert. Then the band played their national 
hymn, which they sang, waving French and Belgium flags, ex- 
cept those who were so overcome by the music that they put 
their heads on the table and wept. I have never been so over- 
come in public in my life, men and women sobbed is was so 



40 INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 

dreadful. The children were fairly well dressed but looked 
under-fed. Mr. Cornelius Bliss made the trip with us, he is on 
the War Council at Washington. He was very much moved. 
Our doctor examined all these children during the afternoon, 
any ill children who come in the future will go either to our 
hospital or convalescent home. I return Friday to Evian with 
eleven nurses, I will be there for about two weeks and organ- 
ize the work. Everything we do here is very difficult as we 
have to satisfy the French as well as ourselves. 



Hopital pour enfants. Hotel du Chatelet, 
Evian des Bains, Huate Savoie, France. 

October, 1917. 
To A. G. 

I am putting on the above address in case you have anything 
to send for the children. As I wrote, flannelette nightgowns 
will be our great need. I am having a holiday; this is such a 
beautiful place, at present with no bad sights, as the rapatrie 
flood has stopped until November 1st, and our hospital has not 
yet opened. While writing to you, I am listening with one ear 
to a man who lived in Russia for 25 years, the Czar's dentist, 
an American, he says that our commission made no impression 
on Russia. He says that Russia idolizes Roosevelt. It is most 
interesting to hear his tales of the revolution. He was in Petro- 
grad all through it, the truth is that it was anything but a 
bloodless revolution. Although the Russian news is bad, the 
general belief here is that Germany will gain nothing by taking 
Petrograd, just a longer front to guard. 

We took such a wonderful walk yesterday, about ten miles 
up in the hills behind the Chatelet, almost to the snow line, 
I have never seen more beautiful autumn foliage, you can 
imagine it against the snow on one side, the reflection in the 
lake on the othr, the air is so wonderful that you can walk 
all day without fatigue. I came here with an awful cold and 
already feel like a new person. I will be here for two weeks. 

I had two letters from you the night I left Paris, I read 
them at 3 a. m. standing under a lamp in the corridor of the 
train. 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 41 

We have such a fine set of young fellows here, I am fond 
of them all; our new nurses from America are a particularly 
fine set of girls. I am wondering and wondering if this is to be 
a thirty-years* war. 



Evian les Bains, October 29, 1917. 
To A. G. 

Our hospital opened yesterday with a measles case. Every 
one was excited and ran around. It was quite amusing. Every 
one said before we opened that it would be difficult to persuade 
the mothers to part with their children. But already we find 
that we are being swamped with children. These poor ra- 
patries seem to have such faith in the Americans that they trust 
us implicitly. 

We have such an interesting nurse here; she has been three 
years in Serbia and Macedonia. She had typhus twice, there 
were only two nurses in the hospital; they both had typhus and 
were nursed by Austrian prisoners. I think she must be the 
nurse Miss Burke described who found the Serbian boys and 
marched hundreds of miles with them. Thirty thousand of 
these boys between the ages of eight and eighteen were en- 
rolled in an army and marched out of Serbia in order to save 
them. Only 6,000 reached their destination, the rest died of 
starvation en route. Miss Simmonds is very enthusiastic over 
the Serbs; she liked the Russians very much, too; she came 
into intimate contact with the men of six armies; it was a 
tremendous experience. 

Just before leaving Paris I had a most wonderful present; 
it was a lace sofa cushion made by a French soldier in a 
hospital. I visited the hospital and admired this lace very 
much, which one of the men was making. All of the 
men in the ward were making lace; they had patterns before 
them which they were copying. The Mother Superior of the 
place had it made up for me. I think it is so pathetic to see 
these strong men turned into lace makers. 

I wish you would interest some one in making caps for our 
children to wear when they are being disinfected, it is very 
necessary. 



42 INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 

We did have such a wonderful trip to Chamonix; arrived 
there in the first snow storm of the season; it was like a fairy 
scene — so many trees laden with huge red berries and these 
covered with snow. The autumn foliage is so beautiful — it 
makes such a wonderful contrast in the snow. It was hard to 
realize we were there really because of the war. 

I inspected a hotel en route which Dr. Lucas is thinking of 
for a convalescent home, it is most unsuitable, I think. He has 
not seen it and probably won't go there after my report. 

We are to have a convalescent home near Lyons. I am de- 
lighted with our nurses, an unusually fine set of women. 



Lyons, November 1, 1917. 
To L. McL. and C. A. S. 

My present life seems to deal in the unexpected even more 
than my life at home. After spending a week at Evian helping 
to organize the new hospital which is open now with twenty 
patients (we have room for one hundred but no more will come 
until the rapatries begin to arrive again), I left for Lyons where 
we are to have a convalescent home for children. There is a 
wonderful young woman here who organized all this rapatrie 
work, Madame Gillet Motte. She became interested in it 
through meeting one of her young relatives who was sent 
through, she found the child utterly forlorn, dirty, covered with 
vermin and unattended by an adult. Madame Gillet's family 
is very rich. She comes from the north of France. Her father 
and mother are hostages now, they have been held as such for 
two and a half years. Well, Madame Gillet undertook the care 
of all the children who arrive separated from their parents, also 
the orphans. She has had thousands in her care, at present she 
has on her hands 1,200 who have not yet been connected with 
anyone. She has them scattered all over in houses of about 60 
beds in each. 

Just to give you an idea of some of her troubles, diphtheria 
developed in one house last week, seven of the children died 
and at present about forty of them are down with it. The 
seven died because of bad hospital care, all of the decent medi- 
cal men are in the army. 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 43 

Dr. Lucas expects to turn the German Consulate into a 
hospital for children, it is next door to the Gillet home. 

On my arrival at Lyons I found to my surprise that Dr. 
Lucas had arrived the same day from Paris with Dr. Richard 
Cabot, Mr. Devine and half a dozen other doctors, I was so 
glad to see Dr. Cabot, he is to join our forces and we need 
him badly. The arrival of that big party has interfered awfully 
with my work, as we have had to meet the Mayor, be enter- 
tained, etc. Yesterday we drove out to the chateau which was 
left by a rich old lady for a convalescent home for children. I 
was astounded when I got there to drive through the most 
beautiful woods, and at the top of the hill find a palace! You 
never say such a place, 56 rooms, besides the lodge and a central 
heating system. It is high and overlooks a beautiful country. 
We found three old servants in charge, all of whom I promptly 
engaged, to relieve their minds. The butler has been with the 
family forty-nine years. The house is full of wonderful old 
carved furniture, tapestries, etc., which belong now to the 
grandsons who are in the army. I shall select several big 
rooms and store them pro tern. A housekeeper and assistant 
arrived this a. m. from Paris, and we shall go to the chateau 
tomorrow and I will stay with them there a few days to plan 
it. We have the nurses, the beds are ready and this 
A. M. I will buy sheets and blankets. Children's night- 
gowns are our biggest problem, and while I think of it, I am 
crazy for some caps such as we use at the Farm for disinfect 
ing heads, just a mob cap made of gingham, pink probably, 
with good quality elastic in it. Do get some one busy making 
these. 



Lyons, Chateau des Halles, November 4, 1917. 
To A. G. 

Here I am installed in a palace with a total and entire 
stranger (Mrs. Holzman), and a French architect as my sole 
companions. Dr. Lucas left us here yesterday after going over 
the place in a very formal way, accompanied by a number of 
French politicians, all dressed in black, long coats and high 
hats. It was just like a funeral procession and the house cer- 



44 INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 

tainly did seem impossible for the moment. But after a delici- 
ous lunch prepared by the Chateau's cook and served by the 
maitre d'hotel, we felt encouraged to go ahead. 

We have really worked out a very good, feasible plan, which 
practically shuts off half of the house which is not heated. 
This place is really a palace, 56 rooms without counting farm 
houses, stables, etc., 300 acres. It was given to the city of 
Lyons by an old woman who gave it in a time of mental de- 
pression. Nothing could be more unsuitable than it is for a 
children's home. It is built in the style of 50 years ago, perfectly 
hideous, huge rooms with ceilings three stories in height.. We 
can put 27 beds in the dining room. Mrs. Holzman, who is here 
with me, is a treasure, a queer combination of artist (a singer), 
and very practical, has run girls' camps in the Adirondacks. 

We have planned all kinds of things for this place including 
an Xmas entertainment for the village children, and district 
nursing — there are any number of little villages near by and 
not a doctor. Mrs. Holzman is a very capable woman. We 
can't really do anything towards getting the chateau in order 
until the heir to the furniture arrives and selects what he wants. 
It is awfully pathetic, the house is full of relics of the past 
with no one to claim them. One stumbles across children's 
building blocks, uniforms of the young officer who went down 
in a submarine, and all kinds of little things which make one 
realize how uncertain life is, to think that these precious me- 
mentos are being put aside by strange Americans. 



Monday. 

There is a beautifully kept farm in connection with the place, 
17 cows, chickens, which of course pleases me, hot houses, 
rose gardens, walled fruit and heavens knows what. I didn't 
take time to really investigate it all. 

We returned to Lyons in order to see Dr. Lucas before his 
return to Evian. He was delighted with our plan for the ar- 
rangement of the house, which really is very good. We all 
dined together. The young doctor arrived, who is to have 
charge of the place. 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 45 



Paris, November 10, 1917. 
To L. McL. and C. A. S. 

You can imagine my disappointment when I returned from 
Lyons after a three weeks' absence to find that I had missed 
a visit from Loyall, I felt like crying. One of the hardest 
things over here is that we are so cut off from those we love. 
It is a comfort to me to know that Dick and Loyall are on the 
same continent with me. My birthday letter to Dick arrived on 
the day of his birthday and the cigarettes right after, which 
seemed to please him. 

So many of the big doctors are arriving here from home 
that I am wondering if there are any left. You both write 
about children's clothes so I am going to answer together: We 
need bloomers for all ages up to 12 years: rompers, mob caps 
(with good elastic) for disinfecting heads; aprons, high neck, 
long sleeves, NOT black; woolen stockings if possible, for 
winter; flanelette night gowns, all sizes to 10 years; sweaters, 
dark colors to pull over the head, with sleeves; woolen dresses 
(could be made of old material). I want a large supply of 
boys' overalls but I think I will have to have them made here. 
I am determined to introduce our overall to the French boy. 
The black satine apron he wears with heavy wood soled shoes 
is enough to discourage any boy from having a good rough 
game. The children rarely play hard. I have watched them 
carefully all over France; now I have decided that their dress 
has much to do with it. 

Madame Gilet is enthusiastic over the overall idea and has 
begged me for a pattern which she will have made out of khaki 
in her husband's factory. It is the ideal garment for the sun 
treatment, just cut the trousers very short and there you are 
with a perfectly modest, simple garment. Half of the Frnech 
boys in Paris have already discarded the apron for the boy 
scout uniform, introduce the overall and the nation is reformed! 

I think I have made enough suggestions to last some little 
time, keep you all busy for the winter knowing that neither 
of you have anything to do but make children's clothes for 
me, but be sure that you carefully mark anything you send to 
the "Children's Hospital," Evian les Bains, Hotel Chalelet of 
American Red Cross. 



46 INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 

I was glad to leave Lyons, it is the most doleful city I ever 
was in, worse than Chicago, the same atmosphere, black and 
grimy, the sun never shines there. It really should be very 
beautiful, as it has two big rivers flowing through it, and lovely 
hills around, but the factory smoke combined with the river 
fogs casts a gloom over everything. 

Tomorrow I begin lessons with a French Countess who is a 
very sweet, attractive woman, whom Dr. Lucas has given a 
position as translator in our office, although she speaks little 
English. I worked out a French method which I thought would 
help her English and my French at the same time. For instance, 
"Everyone" "Tout le monde," she was to read the English and 
I the French. When I suggested this she said, "No, it is im- 
possible, for you do not speak English, you speak American." 
Well, I let that pass without argument, saying, "Perhaps not, 
but our written English is the same, we learn from the same 
literature." "Ah I" she replied, "mais les Anglais n'ont pas une 
literature." When I tell this story to an English woman she 
laughs heartily at the first part and I am sure agrees, but when 
I finish the story she is way up in the air and furious. It is 
quite amusing to watch their "re-action" as Dr. Lucas would 
say. 

I have met a type of English man and woman whom 1 find 
most congenial and admire very much, "The Friends." They, 
without question, continue to do, and have done the best work 
in France since the beginning of the war. Men and women, 
they turn their hand to whatever comes. A fine young fellow 
is at this very moment installing the new plumbing for us in 
the chateau near Lyons. He has become an intimate friend of 
the priest in the village where he is working and keeps his 
organ in repair for him. 

Dr. Hilda Clark is the moving spirit of the society. She 
lives at this club, The Lyceum, when she is in Paris so I 
know her well. She is ill now and in England. 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 47 



Paris, November 12, 1917. 
To E. E. S. 

Last week I was at Lyons en route for Paris from Evian- 
les-Bains, where we have a wonderful hospital for children. I 
spent a night at Chamonix and thought of you. Isn't it beauti- 
ful there? We arrived in a slight snowstorm, just enough to 
make the place look like a fairy scene; the trees were all bright 
red or yellow, some with huge bunches of red berries hanging 
from them; you can imagine the effect in the snow. But I am 
a hoodoo traveling. I seem a suspicious character. I am al- 
ways held up. The last time I came through Bellegarde I was 
arrested twice, at midnight, too, just for smuggling chocolate. 
No one told me it was dutiable and after I had shown my 
passports, paid duty, explained, etc., it was discovered that I 
was carrying letters through to Paris, another excitement. 

I was shut up in a small room, scared to death and expect- 
ing to be put through the third degree when I was smilingly 
released. Well, last week I avoided all these sins but when 
I showed my passport, they shook their heads, asked if I had 
come from Switzerland and put me aside for further investi- 
gation. It makes one so nervous as I hear so many stories of 
women being put up against a wall and shot. Think of that 
happening to Auntie! I have come to the conclusion that the 
trouble all lies in the fact that I was born in Stockton. That 
place has always been a curse to me. I believe they see Stock- 
ton and think Stockholm. When my bag was opened last time 
a woman inspector accused me of carrying quantities of tobacco; 
it was really only packages of punk, which I assured her were 
to warm my feet with! After much smelling and almost chew- 
ing, she was persuaded to let it through without duty. It 
sounds very funny afterwards but I assure you it is no joke to 
be yanked out of line at midnight, and it always is midnight, 
to be investigated by three excited Frenchmen in a strange 
tongue. I don't attempt to make explanations. I just repeat 
"Non Suisse, je suis ete a Evian." They almost shake me 
sometimes, but I feel helpless before the mystery of my pass- 
port, carnet rouge, identification cards, etc. I just hand them 
out and let them talk. An English speaking Frenchman came 
to the rescue last night and showed them how foolish they were. 



48 INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 

I was traveling on a military transportation and all that fuss! 
But I evidently have the countenance of a spy and a plotter. 
I am sending the above which I wrote to Dick McLaren. I 
thought Mr. Sloss would be amused at my adventures. The 
most extraordinary things happen to me. Every time I return 
from a trip the entire office hangs on my words as I always 
have something queer happen to me. But events march so 
rapidly here that one event quickly pushes another into the 
background and I fear much of interest will be forgotten before 
my return, which at present looks far in the future. These are 
very black days but everyone here is so cheerful and philosophi- 
cal that I won't write a gloomy letter — ^we simply must bear 
what comes. 



Wednesday. 

The news is so discouraging this morning that I can think 
of nothing else. The guns are turned on Venice, it is really 
unbearable. There is every prospect that I will go to Rome 
soon with Dr. Lucas. Two of our staff leave for Italy tonight 
to take a look, we never say the word "survey." 

We are turning the German Consulate at Lyons into a 
Children's Hospital, a good use to make of it. 

It would make your heart ache to see the little rapatries 
arrive at Evian on Lake Geneva. We have a children's hospital 
there of one hundred beds. Twelve hundred of these poor peo- 
ple arrive every day, carrying their poor pitiful little treasures 
under their arms. Of course the most tragic ones are those 
who are separated from their families. I saw with my own eyes 
six hundred and eighty Belgian boys and girls come through, 
two-thirds of whom had been taken from their mothers, you 
can't imagine the pathos of the scene of their arrival. I just 
lifted up my voice and wept. I really saw red and for the first 
time felt that I would like to be behind a gun and do all the 
damage I could to the soulless destroyer of home and family. 
This war on helpless babes is too much, just think of our 
children's refuge at Toul, where we have given shelter to four 
hundred and fifty children under eight years of age. We have 
been obliged to put up black curtains at all the windows so 
that the night lights kept burning in the wards will not be seen 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 49 

by the German air planes, they select by preference hospitals 
and children's refugee camps, isn't it unbelievable I 

We are gathering around us here such a fine set of men and 
women, but I can't help realizing when I see them arrive how 
deeply they will be missed and needed at home, the world 
supply of such people is not enough to go round. 

My two dear nephews are over here and I can't decide which 
is the finer, so different in type, both Bayards, "sans peur, et 
sans reproche." Think that each may at any moment meet his 
end and all for what? Liberty and truth, I hope. 

I love to think of your peaceful country life, working side by 
side with your dear children, conserving the fruits of the earth, 
not destroying them. It is so heartbreaking to see all the 
orchards which have been ruthlessly destroyed by the retreat- 
ing enemy, and now beautiful Italy is to be destroyed. I really 
can think of nothing else today, it is uppermost in my thoughts. 

Paris, November 15, 1917. 
To A. G. 

I hope to visit the "Friends" place at Chalons before my 
return. I am more impressed with them than with any people 
over here. They really show the fruit of Christian teaching, 
and they refuse to fight; as men and women they are a devoted 
band. The women make this club their Paris headquarters, so 
I see quite a little of them. They all show a spiritual quality 
which I see in no other English or Americans. These people 
have certainly suffered for their faith, for I think they had a 
hard time in England at first; now everyone respects their 
splendid work. Dr. Lucas has backed them up in every way; 
he is sending doctors to them now, and I hope later on I can 
get them nurses as well. 

The trouble about Christianity it seems to me is, that we 
choose the part of Christ's teaching which suits our convenience 
and leave the rest. There are few who are ready to really lay 
down their lives for their faith. 

I stumbled across another settlement in Paris just by chance. 
The moving spirit is Mdlle de Rose, a descendant of an uncle 
of Jeanne d'Arc. Her mother is a duchess, very wealthy, 
influential people. Mdlle de Rose conceived the idea twelve 
years ago of going into a poor quarter of Paris to live. She 



50 INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 

has been teaching every week in a sewing school in this quarter, 
the 5th arrondissement, near the Latin quarter. The friend 
under whom she was working died, leaving her work to her as 
a legacy. She left home (an unheard of thing in France) and 
there she has lived ever since, contributing every penny of her 
income to her work. She has built quite a wonderfully planned 
tenement, she does not know it is a "model tenement"; a home 
for working girls, also wonderfully planned; conducts all kinds 
of recreational work; has a chorus of three hundred voices, and 
since the war has branched out into an Agricultural Home for 
Orphans. But before I get on to that subject, I must tell you 
of her trousseaux. When the girls go to work and leave her 
younger sewing classes, a trousseau is started for them. All 
the materials are provided for all kinds of under garments, bed 
linen, etc., which is left in a locker at the settlement. They 
have no name for their work and have never published a report, 
although large sums of money have been given them to spend. 
Mile, de Rose has evolved from her own brain, common sense, 
experience and ingenuity, a wonderful placing out system for 
children. She forms families of not more than twelve, all ages, 
places them on a farm in charge of a motherly woman and there 
brings them up normally. These farms are self-supporting, all 
being under the direct, scientific management of a practical 
farmer. They bought the land and are rapidly paying off the 
mortgages on it. She has at present about twelve of these 
farm colonies under her supervision and is increasing them 
rapidly. Her right hand is a Miss Hopkins, an American 
woman who turns over her entire income to the place, and the 
day I saw her she was wearing rubber overshoes because she 
had no shoes. Their rule is never to ask others for money 
while they have a cent left of their own. As far as I could 
discover, it is the only rule they have. I have no doubt that I 
shall find many more French women of this same stamp, but 
they are so modest about what they do that it is difficult to 
unearth them. 

It is this quality that appeals to me in the French more than 
any other; but it is really very inefficient in a way because they 
have no co-operation. I am sure that sixteen "oeuvres" as they 
call them, help one family, except that they do work in dis- 
tricts. 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 51 

Read this letter to our circle if you think it will interest 
them. I hope they are sewing for my babies, do not kill your- 
selves over model kits, use what you have. I can see little 
difference between the clothes of the French children and our 
own, anything will do. 



Nancy, November 23, 1917. 

To A. G. 

While waiting for Dr. Knox to make a formal call upon 
Madame Mirman, the prefect's wife, I hope to start a letter to 
you. We have had a fine trip together. After inspecting Toul, 
we came on to Nancy where we found a most cordial welcome. 
Monsieur Mirman, the prefect, is a very unusual man and so 
lovely and simple, as all really big people are. I wish you could 
have seen him stand before the infant class in one of his refuge 
schools and go through all the motions with the children, of 
one of those kindergarten songs— it was really touching— and 
so unconscious of our presence. He is so eager for our help 
for his dear children and most appreciative. I talked over with 
him the possibility of introducing play ground workers, and he 
jumped at the idea. We arranged for another series of dispen- 
saries with a center from which to work at Luneville, we now 
have one at Nancy which is supported by the American Fund 
for French Wounded (Chicago), but under our supervision. 

Dr Brown had fifty patients in one small town yesterday 
and was obliged to turn away twenty. Our boys are camped 
all about here. Yesterday we saw one who was wounded and 
who had received the croix de guerre. All of his comrades 
were so proud of him. When I entered the ward filled with our 
wounded, a lump came into my throat, a different feelmg from 
any one has when visiting other hospitals. 

The most really shocking thing I have seen was in one ot 
these towns which is constantly under shall fire. The little 
cemetery is a complete wreck. The graves have hterally been 
rent asunder and the coffins lie exposed to the f ^^^.^^^ 

We visited a baker (a woman) who lives and bakes ma house 
the top of which is quite gone, just a mass of ^e^ris and the 
back all gone. The oven is still intact and when the bom- 
bardment is too severe she retires to her oven for protection! 



52 INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 

She had a big bowl of chrysanthemums on the counter and a 
man next door was makmg delicious chocolate creams between 
bombardments, as it were. It is all so extraordinary. 



Chalons-Sur-Mame, November 23, 1917. 

Dr. Knox and I arrived here last night to inspect the 
Friends* work. They have a maternity hospital which they 
opened in December, 1914. You can't imagine anything more 
uncomfortable than the way in which they live, so over crowded, 
every inch given up to the babies. I consider Miss Pye a real 
heroine, and such a sweet, lovely, gentle woman, with big black 
intelligent eyes. Dr. Lucas has been so impressed by her. He 
has got the Red Cross to give them lots of money. We are 
financing a "baby house" for them, an old chateau where refugee 
babies under 3 years are kept. 

Dr. Knox is thrilled by his trip, the first he has seen of the 
war zone. He is to have this district under his care. A series 
of First Aid stations will be established all along the line with 
hospitals in the rear to send the really sick to. I feel so hope- 
ful for the future of this district. We will do real district work 
now. I think I wrote you that the traveling shower was ours! 



Lyons, November 30, 1917. 
To L. McL. 

I have just come in from our convalescent home 30 miles 
from Lyons. It is in beautiful order. I was quite surprised 
to find what had been accomplished in three and a half weeks, 
plumbing installed, walls protected very cleverly, carpets up, 
floors polished; in fact, an inconveniently arranged palace made 
into a comfortable hospital because the children there are not 
really convalescent. It is such a pleasure to see the children 
installed, to have that impossible place put to such a good use. 
We have there a splendid co-operative set of workers, all pull- 
ing together. 

Little Hannah Hobart is getting on well and happily at 
Evian, she is a little trump. 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 53 



Lyons, December 1, 1917. 
To E. E. S. 

Just a line to wish you all the blessings of the season. This 
is not intended to be a letter, just a greeting, as I feel that I 
must be in touch with my best friends at this time. 

I have just come from our convalescent home which is 
located in a palace, I call it, such a contrast to the Hill Farm, 
but not nearly so well fitted up for children's use, although as 
there are lovely woods close by, I am sure that the children 
will have a happy time there in the summer and this is to be 
a permanent place, so it is a pleasure to fit it up comfortably. 

I am in Paris very little, just a few days at a time, but I have 
time on Sundays to see friends. I won't mar my Xmas letter 
by writing of gloomy things, so it must be brief as nothing is 
very cheerful here at present, although the Germans seem to be 
checked in Italy. Our bureau may extend its activities to 
Rome, in which case I will probably be sent there, I don't 
mean permanently. My work is intensely interesting, in fact 
quite exciting, as I have to fly from one spot to another adjust- 
ing difficulties which are really generally very simple tangles 
which untrained people have become involved in. I am always 
welcomed with open arms which is a pleasant side of it, and 
have so far managed to be a traveling interference without 
being hated by everyone. 

We have at present about 600 children under our direct care 
whom we house, feed and clothe, besides those under the care 
of the doctors and nurses in about ten dispensaries. We open 
a big welfare center in Paris January 1st with the Rockefeller 
Institute people, who are launching a big tuberculosis campaign. 



Paris, December 11, 1917. 
To A. G. 

As I have a bad cold and cough fortunately it is Sunday. 
I shall go to the American church this morning. This certainly 
is a beastly climate; one day of sunshine in four weeks so far. 
Just damp, cold, thick black penetrating fog. I have had three 
bad colds since I left home, although otherwise I am very well. 



54 INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 

Everyone here is busy over the soldier's presents. This club is 
the center of the packing. You can imagine what it means to 
get off 200,000 packages. I have been contributing nurses to 
the work, ten this week. It takes nurses or anyone in fact, 
about one week to get out of Paris after reaching here, so I 
have set them to work in the interim with the A. F. F. W., 
(Mrs. Lathrop), which is good for co-operation. I can often 
help in ways of that kind here where most of the R. C, al- 
though doing splendid work in their own pursuits, do not real- 
ize how much is going on outside. I chum with all kinds of 
people, exchanging ideas and workers with them. My cosmo- 
politan bringing up is very useful to me. It seems to me that 
San Francisco people have more ramifications than any other 
people in the world. 

Evelyn Preston, Ralph Preston's daughter, is Miss Byrnes* 
chum. She is working awfully hard in Dr. Lambert's office. I 
think these young girls deserve a lot of credit for this hard 
office work they are doing, typing from morning to night. 

I hope to have an Xmas Eve dinner for the young people 
and there is some chance that Dick may get off for it; and 
another dinner on Xmas Day for forlorn nurses who may be 
stranded in Paris. I will go to the American church in the 
morning, Madame Gotz has invited me to lunch. Major Murphy 
gathered us all together yesterday, the sixth months' anniver- 
sary of the starting of the Red Cross in France. It is really 
quite wonderful what has been accomplished, a herculean task 
has been undertaken and well organized. As he said, each of 
us sees only the defects of his part in the organization and 
can not see the result as a whole. I think we have accomplished 
in our bureau a great deal in the short time since it was 
organized, just four months. We have four hospitals and 
twelve dispensaries with about 15 doctors and 100 nurses and 
aides at work, besides the Paris office, which investigates and 
passes on the claims of every children's society in France, 
orphan asylum creches, etc. I am afraid this sounds boastful, 
but you can have no idea of the terribly discouraging times 
we have; the nurses nearly go mad with the difficulties, for 
instance, Dr. Baldwin at Nesle in the war zone has been running 
three dispensaries and a hospital for two months without 
gauze, alcohol, or night gowns. Fortunately, I have been able 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 55 

to supply things from time to time out of funds which have 
been sent me, in fact, I bought night gowns for the above place 
and put them in a nurse's trunk. Express simply never arrives 
in the war zone, except for the army. 



Paris, Sunday, Dec. 15, 1917. 
To A. G. 

I have had such a quiet and uneventful week that there is 
very little to write you about today. Two American mails have 
come in without a letter from you though I am sure you have 
written. We seem to live only for the mails. We share our 
letters and are interested in those from total strangers. 

I am going to drag the sadness out of Xmas day by having 
two dinners; one on Xmas Eve, one on Xmas day. One for 
Miss Byrne and the young people and the other for the nurses 
and any aides who may be here at that time. It is possible 
that Dr. Lucas may return on the 22d, unless he gets an ex- 
tended leave from the U. C. Dr. Knox will carry out his plans, 
he straightened out my department which is now running like 
clockwork and everyone happy. 

I must tell you one thing which we all feel pretty much the 
same about and that is our feeling about the war. We feel that 
in the future (I mean by next spring), if the war continues, 
all our efforts should be directed toward the men. I think it 
will be more and more difficult to get over here and those of 
us who are here must turn to, for our army. It is our first 
obligation. I do not know which I consider the most important; 
the social or nursing side of it. They are both vital. If the 
men are not looked after morally, what hope have we in the 
future of the race? Our men beg for help; they constantly 
stop me, a total stranger, on the street and beg me to do 
something. The Y. M. C. A. has taken hold splendidly, but 
the job is a gigantic one. I would not urge Dr. Blake to 
come over except in the spring with the army, then every 
available man will be needed. 



56 INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 



Paris, December 26, 1917. 
To Willing Circle. 

Your "round- robin" was fine, it came about a week ago, but 
I played fair and didn't read a line until early Christmas morn- 
ing. I was very lucky, because all my Xmas letters came on 
time, at least I think they did, but there may be more en route 
which I sincerely hope to be the case, as letters from home are 
my only consolation. You see no one really tells you the same 
things, so in order to get all the news you long for, you have 
to piece the news together. 

It is really quite funny about the family news, each one 
takes so for granted that some one else has told the real item 
of interest that no one does anything but refer casually to it 
or if they do the letters all go down. 

We have been quite worried about one of our doctors. Dr. 
Knox. He had an operation for appendicitis three days ago, 
is doing well, but we had quite a scare about him. We are 
like one big family here, it is really quite remarkable that so 
many people can be collected together so indiscriminately and 
work together so harmoniously. There are about twenty people 
in the Paris office and about one hundred and ten outside and 
all pulling together. In fact, you can feel proud of our whole 
Red Cross organization over here. Of course mistakes are 
made and I have no doubt but lots more will be made, but we 
have two fine men at the head. Major Murphy and Major Per- 
kins, and their spirit pervades the whole organization. I think 
they have accomplished marvels in the short space of time, just 
six months — we have been here four. 

I am writing thus fully on this subject because I have no 
doubt but that you will hear much adverse criticism, but simply 
don't believe it. I have never seen harder working or more 
sincere people than are here in the Red Cross, and they are 
directed by men of a high order of intelligence. We all get 
discouraged at times, but at present Paris is very hopeful of the 
outcome of the war, victory and peace in the near future. We 
can at least all hold the thought. 

You will most of you be interested to know that I went to 
the opera last Saturday night with Mrs. Coit, escorted by Willie 
Gwin, who is doing fine work with A. F. F. W. I have, by the 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 57 

way, joined the staff of the latter. I am to make inspections for 
them of French military hospitals which I will do when I pass 
them en route on my other inspections. This is an example of 
Red Cross co-operation with other societies. 



New Yearns Day, 1918. 
To E. E. S. 

This is New Year's Day and I am sorry that I can not drop 
in upon your happy little family today and wish you all the 
blessings for the coming year. 

Your New Year's letter reached me last night and I was 
more touched than I can tell you, to receive the Mothers' Club 
contribution. You must tell them how pleased I was, but I 
will write myself to thank them. I have had many touching 
evidences that my friends, both high and lowly, have not for- 
gotten me this Christmas time. A letter from the old doctor 
at the Farm gave such a graphic account of affairs there that I 
could hear the pigs squeak. She says they put up apricots and 
blackberries, I am wondering what you did with all the fruit 
you canned. You say you and Mr. Sloss wept over my letters, 
well, I am not going to tell you one sad thing in this. For the 
day I will try to forget the sadness of the world. I have estab- 
lished an Emergency Fund with the various gifts which have 
been sent me, some of the men in the office hearing of it have 
contributed. We are supporting out of it a little family of five 
until the father has sufficiently recovered from an operation to 
support them. The news of this help was the mother's New 
Year's gift, wasn't that nice? (She has a baby two months 
old.) I also got a few toys for her children. It is really very 
difficult for the Red Cross to take care of individual cases. 

I had such a nice Xmas, twenty-five letters, wasn't that fine? 
They made me feel happier than I have been since my arrival. 
It is nice to know that you are not forgotten. One feels some- 
times over here so completely overwhelmed by the terrors of 
life that you can hardly believe that friends at home are just 
the same faithful stand-bys as ever. I certainly am blessed in 
my friends, they are such worthwhile people, all true blue. 

I am deeply interested in the Y. M. C. A. work. They are 
doing wonders for the morals of the men. I only regret that 



58 INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 

the officers are excluded from their recreation centers. Dick 
and Loyall Sewall say they look with longing eyes at the 
brightly lighted places and stand out in the cold to listen to 
the music. I suppose that will develop later. 

I might as well tell you now that deeply as I am interested 
in the children, and you know how my heart goes out to them, 
my deepest interest is with our boys, Dick and Loyall and their 
friends give me such a vivid picture of camp life, the cold hard 
times, homesick days and the general misery of it all, that I 
know that if the time comes when the hospitals are overflow- 
ing with our men and nurses are needed for them, all the 
French babies in the world won't keep me from them. After 
all, blood is thicker than water, and these boys are our very 
own. And they are such young boys, most of them, so care- 
free and happy. I went with one of them the other day to 
choose toys for the Xmas tree the regiment was having for the 
children of the town. He was so young and enthusiastic. I 
wondered if he would see another Xmas. The regiment that 
Loyall Sewall is in is infantry. It is considered to be the most 
dangerous branch of the service. He has already been under 
fire, had three men killed at his side and has been into No 
Man's Land. 

Now I thank God the snow has stopped the slaughter for a 
time and peace may come before spring. It is our only hope. 
Here I am talking tragedies which I swore not to mention, but 
one always comes to the vital things at last. 

I have been up till 11 p. m. every night filling soldiers' 
Christmas bags, 300,000 were filled for ours and the French. 



Paris, January 7, 1918. 

To A. G. at Red Cross Headquarters. 

Your notice of the sixth of December, stating that you had 
forwarded a case of children's clothing to the Children's Bureau, 
Paris, was received by me today. The selection is very good 
and I feel sure will fill a real need. We find warm night gowns 
for children quite impossible to secure here, wouldn't it be pos- 
sible to divert the work from baby kits for a time? 

I wish you had seen the joy with which your Xmas bags 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 59 

were received. They did not go after all to men in a hospital 
as Mrs. Vail advised me to give them to men leaving for the 
trenches as they suffer so from the cold, you know the bags 
contained woolen socks which I had made by refugee women. 
The men were so pleased with the writing paper, I saw some of 
them counting the sheets. The poilu certainly is a most ap- 
pealing being, he is so simple and pathetic to me. Yesterday 
was the feast of the Epiphany, so a special send-off was given 
the men going to the front. It is wonderful to see the spirit 
with which the French women conduct their canteens after all 
these weary years of war. I wonder if we will work with the 
same enthusiastic spirit at the end of three long years if we are 
called upon to do it. The room, last night, was so attractively 
decorated, good food was served and the final touch given when 
cigarettes were freely distributed. I wish you could have heard 
200 men sing the simple peasant songs and clap their hands in 
unison. The singing of the Marseillaise was, of course, the 
grand finale, it was splendid, just sent shivers up and down your 
spine, knowing that many of the men will never return to their 
homes. 

We all regret that we are to lose Major Murphy who, being 
a West Point man, is returning to the army where all men of 
sense are needed. I am glad he is going but sorry to have him 
leave us. 



Hoel Vouillemont, 15 Rue Boissy D'Anglas 
(Place de la Concorde) 

Paris, January 20, 1918. 
To J. S. 

My impulse upon receiving your nice letter containing the 
check from Mrs. Heller was to sit down and write you immedi- 
ately I received it. New Year's Eve, and here it is almost the 
last of January and your letter not acknowledged yet. But as 
you know, I lead a very strenuous life and even Sundays are not 
free as I have a French lesson early in the morning, then 
church and in the afternoon try to help with the soldiers tea 
parties. They are so hungry for the sound of an American 
woman's voice that it is pathetic. When I travel I am con- 



60 INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 

stantly stopped by our men who beg me just to speak to them. 
On one occasion I used a slang expression to one of them and 
he just slapped his leg in delight, saying, "That's the stuff — 
that's what I like to hear." It is so pathetic to me. One fel- 
low stopped one of our nurses on the street and after a few 
preliminary words asked her if she would mind if he read his 
mother's letter to her. 

Really, a great deal is done to fill this need both by the 
Red Cross and the Y. M. C. A., but they don't begin yet to 
touch it. It is all such a colossal task. General Wood, who 
took me off to lunch the other day, predicts that we will need 
50,000 nurses before this awful thing is over. I am very much 
excited and overcome at present over the description a girl 
gave me of hundreds of Serbian discharged prisoners she had 
seen with her own eyes while visiting the hospitals who have 
tuberculosis of the glands of the neck, which extends down the 
shoulder to the arm. These men were captured by the Austri- 
ans, inoculated with tuberculosis and then discharged. Isn't it 
unbelievable? I would not believe it but from an eye witness. 
Their case is very pitiful as they get no allowance as the 
French soldiers do, so they can't even buy a cigarette. 

My sister's boy, Loyall Sewall, has just been transferred to 
the tank service, doesn't that sound terrible? I am afraid my 
heart and thoughts are more with our men these days than 
with the poor pitiful French babies, although all my work is 
for them. We simply can't keep up with the demands on us. 
I am desperate for nurses. 



Paris, January 27, 1918. 
To A. G. 

This has been a very intense week, full of excitements of all 
kinds. I hardly know how to begin the chronicle. Our work 
is increasing by leaps and bounds. This big educational cam- 
paign which Dr. Lucas is launching has quite upset the ma- 
chinery of the bureau. It has, as I wrote you last week, thrown 
the Paris work into my hands. Between acts I have been try- 
ing to supervise their work. It is so far purely a settlement 
proposition. The settlements themselves haven't the vaguest 
idea of the duties or possibilities of real district nursng. Their 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 61 

so-called visiting nurses are purely and simply social workers. 
In fact, every one has to be taught. 

Fortunately I have a splendid woman, Miss Phelan from 
Chicago. She is taking hold well, and I feel sure will be a 
splendid help to me. 

We have to double our hospital at Toul to take in the chil- 
dren from other hospitals which are being evacuated to prepare 
for the big Boche offensive, which is expected any day. Air 
raids are expected every night on Paris and altogether there is 
a very tense feeling in the air. I expect to have a very interest- 
ing trip, as that region is very active. 



Paris, January 28, 1918. 
To L. McL. and C. A. S. 

I am going to make an effort to write two letters at once 
as now that you are all so scattered it is quite impossible for 
me to keep up with the weekly letters unless I type them 
which you can see that I do very badly, but I can do it more 
rapidly than it takes to write. Personally I hate typed letters, 
but I know you will be very forgiving. My work is increasing 
by leaps and bounds. My day begins at five or six a. m., never 
later and ends at seven. You know I never am any good at 
night, so I just don't attempt it. 

Last week was much cheered up by letters from home, some 
dated the tenth of December, and others December 30th, none 
on Xmas day, although I feel pretty sure you and Alice and 
Camilla wrote me on that day. They will come later. 

I received a letter from the National Council of Defense 
asking my advice on the subject of aides being sent. "To be 
or not to be, that is the question." My plan would be to have 
them sent to me first and after I had tried them out to transfer 
them to the military service, if they need them, which they do 
not at present. This would be too simple a solution of the diffi- 
culty to go through, I am sure. 

I had such an interesting day on Sunday. I lunched with 
Miss Derby, there I met Sothern, the actor, who looked too 
queer in Y. M. C. A. uniform. He is here to advise on the best 
form of entertainment for our men, he anticipated much diffi- 
culty in making the American public see the necessity of it and 



62 INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 

was relieved and surprised to learn that the public were pretty 
well educated on the value of play. It is planned to establish 
250 theatres for the men in the camps, if such they could be 
called, these queer looking settlements of our men in French 
villages. 

Later I had tea with two of my old Presbyterian hospital 
mates who have been here nursing the poilus since the beginning 
of the war. Miss Allen is now with the EngUsh, bue does not 
care for them nearly as much as the French ; every nurse has lost 
her heart to the poilu, his bravery under the knife, never failing 
cheerfulness and love for his children draws all hearts to him. 
Miss Warner had just been to the wedding of a poilu who has 
lost both his hands and earns his living as a clerk; he writes 
a wonderful hand. I contributed 100 frs. out of our fund to 
help start him in housekeeping, people with pluck like that 
should be helped. 

Miss Allen gave us a most thrilling account of the murder 
of Rasputin, as told to her by an eye witness. It all sounds 
like the wildest dime novel. Miss Warner has charge of a large 
French miUtary hospital. She has been bombarded several 
times and been obliged to flee with her patients, one of her 
nurses lost her hand during one of the bombardments. Miss 
Warner says that nothing is so important to the poilu as his 
drawers, he is willing to go without any other article of cloth- 
ing, but is utterly miserable without drawers. 

Sunday I dined with Dr. and Mrs. Lucas to celebrate his 
birthday. Dr. Cabot was of the party, we had such an interest- 
ing evening. Dr. Cabot has a splendid dispensary in Paris; he 
has so many patients that he can't handle them all. 



Toul, February 2, 1918. 
To A. G. 

As usual I don't know where to begin, I have so much to 
write to you about, but think I will answer your letter first. 

While I write a Frenchman is playing, very slowly, "The 
Star Spangled Banner" on the piano. My heart is in my 
mouth today as I hear that our men, Dick's regiment, is to 
make its first offensive within the next few days, the possibili- 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 63 

ties are too dreadful to think of. But I must put aside fear and 
think of other things. 

This idea that the French people will only accept black 
aprons for their children is all nonsense. We have five hundred 
children here, all happy without them, and the fifty mothers 
seem perfectly satisfied. 

I hope that fine box you sent reaches us, but it really mat- 
ters little so the children get them, as they surely will. 

Now I must tell you the story of my past week. To begin 
with Monday. I heard that General Wood had been severely 
wounded. I located the hospital he had been taken to and 
called on him in the afternoon, found him up and smiling with 
his arm in a sling. Seventy-five Frenchmen had been killed 
right beside him by an exploding shell. I had a nice quiet visit 
and sent a reassuring note to Louise by a friend who was sail- 
ing for home the next day. I tried to get off to Toul Tuesday 
morning but the work piled up so I couldn't get away. 

I have sent for seventy-five nurses more. We expect in the 
immediate future to have hospital dispensaries at Havre, Lyons, 
near Nancy, at Togue, a munition town, at St. Etienne, a big 
munition center, and to take care of ten thousand refugees from 
Nancy who are to be evacuated in the immediate future. One 
hospital here doubles its capacity next week. I have great 
difficulty in providing nurses, they come so slowly from 
America. 

A pathetic little family of five, mother and four children, 
arrived here today from Pompey, their house had been de- 
stroyed by a bomb. The nurses are distributing layettes and 
clothing from the dispensaries which we maintain in this region. 
We have ten now; I visited some of them yesterday. 

The night before I left Paris we had a visit from the Boche, 
sixty planes. It was very thrilling. I stood on the balcony 
and watched it, but I never will do such a foolish thing again 
as I have since learned that many were killed. A plane came 
down quite close to us. We could see the manoeuvering in the 
air. The planes all carry lights, then to hear and see the burst- 
ing bombs, the sound of canonading and the sky lighted with 
the fires started by the bursting bombs, none of it seemed real 
to me. When I first heard the siren I hopped out of bed into 
your nice warm wrapper and stood on the balcony unitl I 



64 INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 

couldn't resist the temptation to see what was going on in the 
streets, so many people were running about below me. The 
Place de la Concorde presented a weird scene. A low sort of 
land fog made everything indistinct, but the sky was very blue 
and clear, the moon full, and the air filled with planes darting 
about in every direction, it certainly was exciting. 

I left at 6 :30 the next morning for Toul. Found things ,in 
somewhat of a mess here, a new head nurse having a little 
difficulty in maintaining discipline, but with my backing all is 
serene again. We really have had very little trouble all things 
considered and the children get the best of care. I have never 
seen a more conscientious group and the aids are fine. 

Mr. Raeder, an orphan asylum expert from New York, is 
here. Dr. Ladd says that he was simply dumbfounded when he 
arrived to see the condition of things, five hundred children 
huddled together in soldiers' barracks, nothing according to 
Hoyle. After he got his second wind, he went to work and has 
been able to bring about a good many reforms, although the 
French mothers and matrons of the buildings resist him at 
every step. I am so glad I have seen him, because he was so 
discouraged — felt that no one understood his aims. I told him 
that he was not establishing something permanent, just a tempo- 
rary shelter. We may be shelled out any minute. It has been a 
surprise to me to find that these people are just like the Neo- 
politans as far as dirt is concerned. Of course the excuse is 
that they have no running water in the houses, but they could 
have had it ages ago if they had considered it of any import- 
ance. 



Paris, February 9, 1918. 
To A. G. 

Visited Mrs. Ladd's studio where she makes masks to cover 
deformed, mutilated faces which are beyond the help of surgery. 
I saw a poor poilu whose entire nose and part of upper jaw 
was gone, his tongue could be plainly seen moving in his mouth. 
The transformation made by his mask was marvelous. He 
stood before us smoking a cigarette, lips parted slightly; the 
flesh tints of the mask so perfect that you expected his expres- 
sion to change. Mrs. Ladd is a very clever sculptor. She 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 65 

makes plastic masks first from the original and then builds 
them up. This man was a good subject, as both his eyes were 
unharmed. The mask was held in place by attachments over 
the ears. It is made of very fine light copper and painted flesh 
colors, a stubble of hair on each of the side cheeks helped the 
deception, with a real mustache. When worn with large specta- 
cles the mask is wonderfully life like. I am wondering how this 
delicate painting will stand the wear and tear of use, weather, 
etc. The idea is to provide the poor fellows with something 
which will enable them to go about their work without being 
absolutely repulsive to their fellow beings. 



Le Glandier, Le Pompadour, February 12, 1918. 

The refuge home for 680 Belgian children who have been 
taken from their parents is an old monastery of the Chartreuse 
monks. It was taken from them twelve years ago and sold to a 
land syndicate. The place has been partly destroyed, all the 
handsome woodwork torn out of the chapel which is ruined, 
many of the cloisters blasted out in an effort to give the place 
a more secular air. There were many ruins to be cleared away 
before the place was at all habitable for the poor little Belgian 
refugees. I saw the place at its best, on a bright sunny day 
with the children actively at play under the leadership of two 
Quaker boys from Philadelphia. The children alternate in the 
school, one-half in the morning and one-half in the afternoon, 
so the boys are kept busy all day long teaching their American 
games; football and baseball are the favorites. It is pathetic 
to see the boys' efforts in sabots and aprons to run and play 
freely. I talked with the manager, Capt. Gros, about overalls; 
he was charmed with the idea. I promised to send him some 
samples. The Belgians seem more progressive than the French, 
they take to new ideas more easily. The sabots are very hard 
on the feet, rows of children were waiting in the dispensary hav- 
ing their feet dressed, they had ugly looking raw places on 
them, the result of rough sabots and some had bad looking 
places from frozen feet, the sabots are so cold. Apart from the 
aprons, caps and sabots, I can see no difference in their dress. 
Capt. Gros and the Belgian doctor in charge could not speak 



66 INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 

highly enough of Miss Boyle, our head nurse. She and her 
assistant worked night and day for two months; in December 
they had a number of pneumonia cases; her devotion was so 
great that it won the admiration of all. They are to receive 
the Elizabeth Cross from the Queen, who visits them next 
month, they surely deserve it, for a week neither nurse took off 
her clothes. We had no idea in Paris what a hard time they 
were having, as Miss Boyle didn't like to complain. Capt. Gros 
has asked her to supervise the baths and the dormitories. I 
think all will go better now that the cold weather is over. 



^ Fontainbleau, February 17, 1918. 

To A. G. 

Miss Byrne and I came here last night to spend Sunday with 
three nice boys who are having a leave, they are not allowed 
to go to Paris so came to the nearest point. The young people 
are riding this morning and I have just made the tour of the 
chateau, it is sad to see it like everything over here being de- 
nuded of its splendor, all the tapestries and other valuables 
being cached for fear of the Boche. It is all so peaceful and 
beautiful here that war is hard to imagine, of course the boys 
talk of nothing else. They are instructors in the artillery 
school. Speaking of the fortunes of war, one of them said that 
when he arrived at the school it was dark; he was met by a 
private who deferentially took his bag and escorted him to the 
hotel. When they could see each other the private turned out 
to be one of his classmates at Yale; they both had a good 
laugh. 

After having three weeks of quite warm weather it has 
turned bitterly cold suddenly. I am so sorry for the men in the 
trenches and the little children, seeing all those frozen feet at 
La Glandier made me realize how they suffer. It is simply im- 
possible to heat these barracks in which they are housed, as 
difficult as to make our gymnasium warm. 

We are staying at the hotel France et Angleterre. I am 
wondering if you have ever been here, I always wonder that 
wherever I go. It is an interesting quaint old place, the walls 
quite covered by old engravings. I go to Evian again this 
week. 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 67 

Paris, February 24, 1918. 
To A. G. 

Captain Farragut Hall is in the infantry. We had a fine 
lunch and talk together the other day. He gave me such a nice 
account of the relations of his men with the village people. He 
says they carry the heavy loads of washing home for the 
women after they have knelt side by side at the stream wash- 
ing their clothes, it is quite a sight. They chop wood, play 
with the children, and make themselves generally useful. Far- 
ragut's regiment was temporarily taken from this village, and 
upon their return they had a royal welcome. The men are 
really in fine condition, the morale splendid; this I hear from 
all sides. They get on better with the Australians than with 
any of the other Allies. 



Paris, March 2, 1918. 
To L. McL. 

I am very much interested in the refugees from Nancy. We 
have the medical supervision of them. One colony of 1,000 
children. 

I have been hearing tales of German brutality that makes 
my blood boil. They refused to heat the cars filled with 
refugees from Northern France, who were en route through 
Belgium sometimes for four or five days. Many arrived at 
Evian frozen! For a long time no toilet facilities were pro- 
vided on the trains. The conditions when they arrived in 
Switzerland were so terrible that the Swiss Government pro- 
tested and finally one toilet was installed in each train. 

We hear many stories of the terrible treatment our prisoners 
receive, but I discredit those tales of horror. You never can 
trace them; it is always some one else who has seen it. I 
know that our troops are in good shape—the morale fine. 

Mrs. H. has had her eyes opened especially to the moral 
conditions and is surprised to find things going so well; with 
exception of five men at Bordeaux on Xmas day she has not 
seen a drunken army man. A French general told a friend of 
mine that he was delighted with the quickness of the Ameri- 
can, they learned so rapidly. 



68 INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 



Paris, March 3rd, 1918. 
To A. G. 

The children's work is really helping the whole war situa- 
tion tremendously. We have over and over again expressions 
of gratitude and confidence from the Poilu of the care we are 
giving his children. When the children were sent out of Nancy 
the parents begged that they be given to the Americans to care 
for and our doctors and nurses left Nancy with the thousands 
of children that were sent to safety. All of this counts tre- 
mendously in the winning of the war, and I suppose I must be 
content with my part in it but I do long to directly help our 
men. 



Paris, March 5, 1918. 
To Willing Circle. 

This is designed to be an Easter greeting but you probably 
won't receive it before May Day. In this very uncertain life 
we lead, the mail is one of the most uncertain things of all. 
Although it is surprising how little is really finally lost. I have 
so far received every package which has been sent me, which I 
think is quite surprising. 

Just at present all my thoughts are with our men on the fir- 
ing line. They are behaving so splendidly and we are so proud 
of them. From all sides I hear praise and appreciation of the 
work they are doing. The French officers are delighted with 
their eagerness to grasp all that is taught them. 

I visited one of our hospitals last week at Dijon; it is an 
old Jesuit school and was the dirtiest place imaginable, but has 
been made fresh and clean by much scrubbing and new paint 
applied by German prisoners, who looked disgustingly fat, well 
and complacent compared to our men stretched out ill in their 
beds in a foreign land, all because of German vileness. There 
were five hundred and eighty men in the hospital, no wounded. 
I did not see any of our pyjamas. The men sit about conva- 
lescing in very forlorn looking citizen clothes. One hundred 
and eighty -five of these men had mumps. I have not seen any 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 69 

men in France parading the streets in those pyjamas, they may 
do so in summer, but I doubt it. 

Miss Warner, a nurse who has been in charge of a French 
hospital here since the beginning of the war, tells me that next 
to his children, the dearest things to a Poilu's heart are his 
drawers, his wife doesn't seem to count at all. He is perfectly 
miserable if he has to leave the hospital without drawers. 

I hope you have seen the wonderful letter of thanks written 
by the man with wooden fingers, it is truly remarkable. He 
earns his living clerking at the Bon Marche. 

Have I written you about the marvelous masks which Mrs. 
Ladd, the wife of Dr. Ladd in charge at Toul, makes for the 
mutiles? It is almost like a miracle. The mask is of very fine 
copper and painted the exact flesh tints of the wearer. Worn 
with a mustache and spectacles, it is most life like. It is worn 
while the man is at work. 

I have just returned from a visit to Evian where I saw 
several trains arrive loaded with people from Northern France. 
The border is to be closed for several weeks now. It is always 
closed when the military operations become very active. I think 
many spies must get through among the rapatries. It was, of 
course, a tragic sight, one can't get hardened to the sorrow and 
frightfulness of all that it means. As the train pulls up in 
France the buglers play patriotic strains, the windows are 
crowded with shouting and weeping people, Vive la France! 
fills the air, Swiss flags are waved from the windows. The 
Swiss never fail to provide flags and toys for the children who 
get out of the train hopelessly dirty and grimy, but generally 
with dolls clasped in their arms. Our ambulance men are at 
hand to tenderly lift the sick and feeble to the ground into 
wheeled chairs or directly to the ambulance. The crowd is 
composed almost entirely of decrepit old people and little chil- 
dren, the majority under eight. Mothers are only sent when 
they are ill or have infants in their arms, and what to me is 
the most tragic sight of all is to see a woman step off that 
train clasping in her arms a Boche baby, which of course they 
all are. If the woman is married she leaves this poor little babe 
at Evian as she cannot face the husband with it in her arms, 
but the unmarried girls usually keep theirs. Five of these poor 
little abandoned creatures were brought to our little orphan 



70 INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 

refuge the night I was there. It was an inexpressably sad sight 
to see them waiting in the hall to be admitted. 

But to write of something more cheerful, it is really a joy 
to see all these people march down the long avenue overlook- 
ing the Lake Geneva, their faces radiant, shouting now and 
then "Vive la France!" They are always delighted at the sight 
of Americans. One dear old woman with such a lovely face 
kept clasping my hand as I walked beside her to carry her 
heavy bundle (they all come through laden), saying, "Ameri- 
cans, our compatriots." The feeling of confidence that these 
poor people have that we have come to save them is really too 
touching for words, it makes one feel that no sacrifice is 
too great to justify their faith in us; and as I look about me 
and see all the earnest men and women who are over here and 
think of the work and unselfish devotion that is shown at home, 
I have a sense of security and a deep feeling that right will 
prevail in the world. All the powers of darkness can not over- 
come the light which is being shed now. People are making 
great sacrifices without even giving a thought to it, it seems 
so natural to put aside material things now when the call of the 
spirit bids us put forth our best efforts to overcome evil. 

There are four men here in the Red Cross who compose an 
entire law firm from New York, Byrne, Cutchen and Taylor, 
they have practically abandoned a prosperous business at their 
country's call. 

The activity near Toul gives us a good deal of anxiety for 
our five hundred children, the place is about a mile from the 
town of Toul. We have just opened a maternity hospital there 
to receive refugees from Nancy. A bomb exploded in one of 
the maternity wards in Nancy the other day so the patients 
have all been removed to Toul. Our doctors and nurses are 
still working in Nancy but it is getting pretty hot there, all of 
the helpless women and children have been sent out. 

I have been getting off nurses and aides all week to the 
various points where the population of Nancy have been sent in 
large groups. For instance at Dinard there are one thousand 
children. As soon as large numbers are gathered together con- 
tageous diseases break out. We always have at least half a 
dozen nurses and aides ill with contageous diseases. It is most 
trying when they are so scarce. I am in terror now for fear 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 71 

an emergency will arise in the next few days before another 
steamer comes, as I haven't one nurse or aide to send. 

We are just beginning a most interesting piece of work in 
Paris. You have probably read about it before now in the 
papers. It is the distribution of food to the school children. 
Our doctors came to the conclusion that as nine-tenths of the 
illness they saw was the result of malnutrition, it was useless 
to have clinics if the children could not be fed, so they have 
given a supplementary meal in all the schools where the chil- 
dren are poor. It consists of a Red Cross bun made of flour, 
milk, sugar and chopped fruits, figs and dates. This is given 
with a piece of chocolate every afternoon at 4 p. m. We saw 
the first distribution which was made a great occasion by the 
schoolmaster. The children sang "The Star-Spangled Banner" 
in English better than our children can sing it, they decorated 
the school with little American flags which they made and 
generally showed their appreciation. This food distribution 
serves two ends, it is a simple telling demonstration to the poor 
people that America is behind them, and will do much to keep 
up their courage in the trying months to come. 



Paris, March 7, 1918. 
To Willing Circle. 

Last night I wrote you a long letter only to wake this a. m. 
with a feeling that I had not finished all that I would say to you 
as I know how difficult it is these days to catch up with the 
march of events if we let weeks slip by without record. As this 
is the only diary I keep, I hate to let the days slip without not- 
ing the facts of interest to me. 

Did I write you about the enthusiasm with which my overall 
suggestion was met by Captain Gros who is in charge of the 
Belgian children? He is impatient to see all his boys in "Can't 
bust 'ems." He bemoans the fact that he has just ordered 
aprons, but I told him the girls could use them. But sad to 
relate the sample overalls which Alice sent me months ago have 
not yet arrived. I had some difficulty in my bad French ex- 
plaining the overall idea, but finally succeeded so well that Cap- 
tain Gros drew a very good picture of a pair. 



72 INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 

The Americans seem to absorb like sponges. They will 
return with many different views of life, some of them bad and 
some good, but never will they or the nation be the same after 
this great experience. I can see people's whole point of view 
change before my very eyes, it is really very curious and this 
same mental process is taking place in millions of American 
minds and hearts at this very moment. 

I am very hopeful on one point, I feel sure that those who 
have, through this world tragedy, learned the joy of personal 
service, will never be content again to let the suffering world 
go by without extending the hand of brotherly love. We won't 
find it so difficult in the future to supply our starving babes 
with milk, or to find homes for the families full of light and 
sunshine, places fit for human beings to live and bring up our 
future citizens in. 

I have seen nothing over here, except in the bombarded, 
destroyed towns, worse than we have at this very minute on 
Telegraph Hill. But I am sure that is not what you want to 
hear, but at times I do look forward with hope to what we 
might accomplish when all this awakened interest and realiza- 
tion of the life that is outside our own narrow walls will be 
expended on sweeping and garnishing of our own cities, making 
them physically and morally fit for the coming race to grow 
and develop in. 

Dr. Lucas expects to return in May to take part in various 
child welfare conferences. He has launched a big Infant Mor- 
tality campaign here. The plan is that after a series of demon- 
strated lectures are given in a town, generally in the opera 
house, a group of trained social service visitors headed by a 
nurse, goes to the town and organizes baby clinics, home visit- 
ing, etc. The plan is to stay in each place about two months, 
during which time they hope to rouse such enthusiasm and 
plant such seeds as will develop into flourishing trees of infant 
life. 

The difficulty of accomplishing such a scheme as this during 
war time is almost overwhelming, but Dr. Lucas is very 
enthusiastic and optimistic about it and really inspires people 
to do the impossible. So few nurses have the training and 
initiative to undertake such a big piece of work that I am in 
despair at times in suppljdng the demand. 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 73 

This plan only covers the small centers, we have permanent 
educational exhibits and teaching centers in the big cities; here 
in Paris we have now six dispensaries where French women are 
being taught public health visiting and home care of the sick. 
In fact we are doing much more here than we have ever 
dreamed of undertaking at home. We are hopeful of teaching 
something here as the French are thoroughly frightened over 
the low birth and high death rate. 

I forgot to tell you of a little incident I witnessed at the 
base hospital the other day at Dijon. A group of men who 
were discharged and just about to leave, held in their hands 
bright comfort bags which they had received at Christmas. I 
spoke to them about them and they told me that they treasured 
them above everything. The nurses say they never let them 
out of their sight. It was so touching to see those big men 
holding those foolish looking little bags full of their treasures. 
I used to wonder at Christmas time when I stood for hours in 
the evening on a stone floor, cold up to my waist, whether I 
wasn't wasting time and strength, but I am sure now it was 
worth it. 

We filled 200,000 bags and I assure you it was a big task. 
Not many of those filled at home got here in time for Christ- 
mas, but they will do for another time. When I distributed the 
bags, Alice commissioned me to fill for her, I saw a Poilu 
standing in a corner counting the sheets of paper. 

We may have to withdraw some of our nurses from the 
front. At Nesle the whole hospital force, nurses, patients and 
doctors, have to frequently retire to the cellar for the night 
when the bombardment becomes too severe. One of our nurses 
at Nesle is to be decorated. A train upon which one of our 
nurses was traveling to Toul, not long since, was struck by a 
shell, but fortunately no deaths. The situation becomes more 
tense every day. 

A hotel for nurses has just been opened in Paris. We have 
found such difficulty in finding suitable accommodations. I 
don't expect to live there as I am very comfortably located. 
None of the clothes have come which people write have been 
sent to me direct, except four flannelette nightgowns without 
name of sender. 

I can't understand why it is so difficult to find suitable 



74 INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 

aides for me. A cable comes saying that only 7 have been 
found out of 25 I cabled for two months ago. It may be 
the fact that we require them to speak French is insurmount- 
able or is it that their patriotism doesn't extend to the care 
of babies? 

Margaret Robins is eager to come over, but is under age. 
I have cabled specially for her. Twenty-five to forty are the 
age limits. General Wood thinks we will need 50,000 nures; 
the thought is overwhelming. 



Paris, March 20, 1918. 
To A. G. 

On Friday the big explosion took place at Laconouvre. I 
was in the Bon Marche at the time with the Countess Bremand 
d'Ars, the lovely Frenchwoman I have written you about, who 
translates for us. She is fascinating, typically French. Her 
husband and only son have been killed, her one remaining 
child, a daughter, is at the school of the Legion of Honor 
founded by Napoleon at St. Denis for officers* daughters. The 
Countess and I were, as I said, at the Bon Marche, when we 
heard a terrific explosion accompanied by the falling of glass 
and great clouds of dust. One's first thought was the Boche. 
The Countess made a wild dive to the street which took her 
under the huge glass rotunda. I had a hard time controlling 
her, we finally got out into the street to seek a "cave." Madame 
had an idea that it was an attack upon the Ministry of War 
where her brother is, he is the Minister of Aviation. We in- 
quired of a man on the street who assured us it was not a raid, 
but an explosion at St. Denis. You can imagine the poor 
woman's feelings; she began to moan and cry, "my husband is 
gone, my son is gone and now my daughter." Fortunately I 
found a taxi near by, drove her to the Ministry of War, where 
her brother, who was jumping into a car, called back, "no, not 
St. Denis, Laconouvre." Well, my heart stopped, for we had a 
doctor, nurse, and French aide working there. It is a big 
munition center, the people all living in little huts around the 
factories, four villages cluster about the place. 

I stopped at the office, picked up doctors and nurses and 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 75 

first aid supplies, two cars full, and went to the rescue, but 
you will have to read the rest in Miss Crandall's letter. 

When I got to Lavonouvre, the center of the disaster, I 
found 500 homeless people whom the mayor had to provide for. 
He said that he had a good building to put them in, an old race 
track with stables, casino, etc., but he needed food, clothing and 
bedding. I told him to telephone in to the Red Cross immedi- 
ately, and I returned to Paris in hot haste as it was nearly 
noon. I left him trying to telephone. 



Paris, Palm Sunday, March 24, 1918. 
To A. G. 

This is really becoming a perfect bore. One never gets set- 
tled but that "Alert'* sounds and we are routed out of our beds. 
Now that the planes come at night and we are bombarded by 
day, there is no rest for the weary. I get so sleepy that I can 
not keep my eyes open to be alarmed. Sunday night I was 
dining at another hotel when the "Alert" sounded. I Wcdted 
until 9:30 then took a room on the first floor and went to bed. 
I slept until morning. Fortunately I came home at dawn be- 
cause I could not get any breakfast. At eight a. m. the "Alert" 
sounded again and guns boomed every twenty minutes all day. 
It is astonishing that a gun has such a long range. 

The poor have the hardest time through all this. They live 
in rickety old houses, with poorly constructed cellars. They 
hover until midnight around the entrance of the Metros with 
their children clinging to them and with little bundles in their 
hands, it is all so hideous and now that the terrific battle has 
begun and thousands and tens of thousands of men are going 
to their deaths to save us from destruction, I long to be nearer 
them. 

Whenever I think of that battle line, I see dear old Dick 
facing the enemy with his fearless blue eyes. He seems typical 
to me of the Anglo-Saxon interpreting the "Golden Boy'* that 
one of these poets writes about. 

Loyall Sewall is here in Paris, thank God, he is so dear and 
fine. 



76 INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 

Dr. Blake's hospital is filled with our gassed men; their eyes 
being badly injured. It is unbearable. 

I want to answer your fine letters but my heart is so in 
those trenches I can think of nothing else. I know you will 
understand. 

The guns are turned on Paris again this morning. Loyall is 
coming to go to church with me. I do not know, now, if there 
will be a service. It is Palm Sunday. The Boche have promised 
to spend Easter in Paris. 



Paris, 8,00 p. m., March 25, 1918. 
To A. G. 

I know your thoughts are with me and the bleeding world 
in which we live. The sound of the big guns booming by day 
and the bombs being dropped at night, have made us all realize 
very fully the gigantic battle that is going on at the front, and 
the thousands giving their lives in our defense. 

Last night we were routed out of bed at 1.00 a. m. by the 
"Alert" and after a few hours rest it sounded again this morn- 
ing, but as we read this morning of the fearful carnage at the 
front, how trifling our small discomforts seen. Tonight we 
have better news, that the English are gaining ground and that 
the big guns turned on Paris have been silenced by two aviators, 
who gave their lives to silence them. 

I long, now, to be at the front. My work here seems so 
little worth while. Two of our nurses returned from Nesle 
today. They had to leave without their clothes. They took 
the children from the hospital to a place of safety. 

It is a cloudy night so we should have a quiet sleep. 



Paris, March 27, 1918. 
To A. G. 

Another day has dawned bright and clear. It looked like 
rain yesterday, which might have helped to arrest the enemy. 
It is hard to sleep with that terrific battle raging right at our 
doors. 

An emergency call came last night for nurses. Dr. Lucas 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 77 

was away but I hope he returned last night from England. I 
am anxious to leave for the front, but do not know whether 
they will consent to it or not. It is hard to decide what is most 
helpful. I may be of more use here. 

Just what part our men are taking, I do not know. We hear 
nothing of them. 

Everyone here is very calm, no nervous excitement. The 
restaurants and cafes are filled as usual. 



Paris, 4:30 a. m., March 28, 1918. 
To A. G. 

Easter approaches. The battle rages. The forces of Satan 
seem to prevail over the Prince of Peace, seem to prevail but 
will not prevail, although things look very black. Fleeing people 
bring news of conquering forces, sweeping in upon us, but I 
have absolute faith in the ultimate result. Everyone is calm 
and unafraid. 

Yesterday our doctors and nurses arrived from Amiens, 
where they had retreated from Nesle, which has been taken and 
lost seven times. The nurses gave thrilling accounts of their 
experiences. One of them carried an eight weeks* old baby in 
her arms for two days. 

Dr. Lucas returned from London tonight to my great relief. 
He rushed around with me to the Military Affairs Bureau. It 
was decided to make up teams of doctors and nurses and 
orderlies; fill camions with surgical supplies, go on the road 
toward the front and give first aid to the retreating wounded. 
The nurses and surgical supplies' end of it was turned over 
to me. 

The nurses have responded splendidly. Everyone is eager 
for the privilege of going to the front and those who have re- 
turned are most eager to get back. It is a grief to me that I 
must stay here, but I am sure that I can thus help more. 



78 INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 



Paris, Good Friday, March 29, 1918. 
To A .G. 

The battle continues to rage; five days of agony. What is 
the result to be? You will know before you receive this. 

The absolutely calm, smiling self-control of the French is 
heroic. Their confidence in their army is perfect. The only 
comment they make is "The Boche will never pass our line." 
But we who have not been hardened to years of horror are 
depressed. I assure you that reading of it in San Francisco 
and seeing it enacted before your eyes are different matters, 
for we know that but a few miles from us the dead are so thick 
on the ground that the troops can not move and one can almost 
hear the moans of the wounded. Refugees are coming into Paris 
telling sickening tales of horror. Our own workers, who stayed 
until they were forcibly removed from the burning towns also 
bring much information. Both sides arrested the oncoming 
troops with gas and liquid fire. The aeroplanes circled low 
above the troops, dropping upon them the tortures of hell. How 
those men come on and on in the face of it I can not under- 
stand. 

An official announcement last night says that the Americans 
are fighting but we hear no news of them, although yesterday 
we had a hurry call from the American ambulance for nurses. 

The English army has been crushed by mere numbers. They 
are fighting magnificiently. 

We have been working frantically to get off teams to the 
rear of the army. The nurses were ready in a half hour after 
the call came, all eager to go, of course. Those who were left 
were heart broken, I among the number, but I know I can help 
most here. 

Mr. Devine has met this emergency well. I am in charge of 
the nursing pro tem. I send a French speaking aid with each 
team. 

They are having a dreadful time at Chalons where my friend, 
Miss Pye, the Friend, has her maternity hospital. We have a 
number of nurses there with her. I worry about them all but 
so far no one has been hurt. 

We made the rounds of the railway stations last night. The 
sights were so pitiful Our nurses help the sick. I saw a five 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 79 

weeks' old baby sucking a piece of chocolate. The excitement 
of the flight from a burning town had dried up the mother's 
milk and the milk at the station had given out. 

Our Red Cross camions drive back and forth from the store- 
house and the stations all day long supplying the needs. All 
the outgoing soldiers are fed and the incoming refugees. It is 
all wonderfully well arranged and organized. All of the people 
who arrive at night have to sleep in the stations, where rows 
and rows of matresses are put down. We are most helpful at 
night. I assign about six nurses and aids to each station for 
the night. A doctor goes with each group. These are chiefly 
women doctors, as the men have gone to the front with the 
teams. 

Paris, March 31, 1918. Easter Day at dawn. 
To A. G. 

I simply can not sleep through these dreadful nights for the 
moon has been so bright that nightfall does not bring a cessa- 
tion of the killing. No brief time comes when the wounded 
may be brought in and the dead cleared from the field for 
another day's carnage. 

Our losses in Paris seem such a trifling matter compared 
with the thousands who are falling to protect us. You know, 
of course, that eighty-five people were killed while they were 
at a church on Good Friday. France is being crucified now but 
I believe that her resurrection will come and that she will be 
purified and fairer than ever before. I can not tell you how I 
admire the spirit of these heroic people, face to face with total 
annihilation they stand perfectly calm and serene and politely 
smiling at us strangers, who they never permit to penetrate 
their reserve. It is a self-restraint that makes one stand and 
uncover the head as they pass through this fiery ordeal. 

Yesterday, I slipped out of the office for a few minutes to 
order some flowers and came back with my arms full as delivery 
is very difficult now. As I walked through the streets laden 
with flowers and heard the loud report of the canons (from the 
vibrations we can get a pretty good idea of how close the shell 
is bursting), I thought that in my wildest nightmare I had 
never dreamed that I would be calmly walking through Paris 
streets, gathering flowers as it were, amidst bursting shells. 



80 INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 

Dr. Lucas is a big man, nothing small about him. As our 
bureau had many more nurses and doctors in it than any 
other, Major Burlingame thought it best for us to have charge 
of the Medical Emergency. 

Monday. 

I returned to the office after church. The guns boomed all 
the afternoon and the effort of trying to bring the Easter 
spirit into this mad world was finally over. I was called in the 
night to the Gare de Lyon for an emergency; fifty sick people 
had unexpectedly arrived. 



Paris, April 2, 1918. (Postmark.) 
To A. G. 

We have plenty of good public health workers but what we 
are short of is nurses for hospital work. There are thousands 
of them at home who are eager to come, who can not get over. 
Why, I can not make out. I am short 150 workers. 

If this war has not accomplished anything else, I think it 
will have shaken people together more and there will be a bet- 
ter spirit of brotherhood in the world. Men who have been side 
by side through this world crisis must have a better under- 
standing of each other. The relation of a French officer and 
soldier is a very beautiful one to me. I have dined at the home 
of Monsieur Mirman, the great Prefect, where seated at the 
same table were a French General and two Poilus, the latter 
being god children of Mme. Mirman at home on permission. 
The General and the Poilus conversed together in the simplest 
and most natural manner. 



Paris, April 3, 1918. 
To E. S. 

There are few quiet moments in Paris now. Between air 
raids by night and cannonading by day we have a very lively 
time. It is strange how quickly one gets used to such things. 
When the bombarding first began, people rushed to the street 
and curiously looked about to see where the shell had burst. 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 81 

but now, although we know that each report of that gun means 
death and destruction to innocent, defenseless people, we 
hardly raise our eyes from our desks. The cruel senselessness 
of this bombardment of Paris has so infuriated the French 
people that it seems to me the Boche couldn't have selected a 
means more calculated to stimulate France to spill her last drop 
of blood to eject the barbarian from her soil. The air raids on 
unfortified cities might possibly be justified from a military 
standpoint, that the enemy planes are thus kept at home for 
defense, but these big guns can do nothing but kill a few hun- 
dred women and children every day, destroy priceless works of 
art, and nothing is accomplished by them of military advantage. 

I am simply filled with admiration for the French people. 
I am on my very knees before them. I have never dreamt of 
such sublime courage as that displayed by the wives, mothers 
and sisters of these heroic men who are dying by the thousands 
to keep men free. It stirs one's soul to the very depths. 

Last week, when the fleeing multitudes came to Paris from 
their burning homes, we kept nurses and aids night and day at 
the railroad stations, which I assure you are not very safe places 
at present, as they are the objectives of the air raids. Train 
loads crowded with refugees and wounded come in all night. I 
made rounds continually myself to see that all went well and 
then I blessed the thoughtful friends at home who supplied me 
with money to use in individual relief. I met so many pitiful 
little families who have fled leaving their all behind them. Many 
arrive carrying nothing but their pet animals. One old woman 
brought her goat, which she said behaved better on the train 
than the children, another hugged a rabbit, dogs and cats of 
course were plentiful and even little pigs could be found, tucked 
under protecting arms, saved from the Boche stomach. The 
calm courage of all these women was marvelous, not a com- 
plaint was heard, not a tear shed. I had a long talk with a 
madonna like mother whom I found standing surrounded by her 
eight children, the youngest in her arms, the eldest a pretty 
girl of sixteen years. Her serene face shone with pride when 
I admired her children. This is the second time she has been 
evacuated, fled for her life, leaving behind all her household 
treasures. She told me her tale quietly and calmly and without 
a complaint. All I could say was "Madame, what courage!" 



82 INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 

Her simple answer was "Victory is sure." I felt like uncover- 
ing my head before her. 

I have been spending a good deal of relief money enabling 
mothers to send their frightened children from Prais. It is so 
hard for the poor little children. One little boy of ten said to 
the district nurse: "I don't fear, but it is hard for the little 
ones." One of the nurses who was in church on Good Friday 
when the shell exploded, saw the child who knelt in the pew 
before her instantly killed. A shock like that is never forgotten. 

The Red Cross is establishing colonies for these children in 
the mountains, fortunately the weather has been very mild. 
Valuable work was also done last week, supplying the railway 
canteens with food, clothing and medical service. Many old 
people entirely collapse at the end of their flight. 

These are tragic letters I write you but this is a tragic time. 
Never while we live on earth will the horror of these days be 
forgotten. It certainly is a time when every man and women 
is called upon to put forth his best efforts. The little children 
of today will be the questioners of the future. They will de- 
mand of mothers and fathers: "What did you do to help in the 
great fight for liberty?" 

Won't the taking of Jerusalem be a great help to the Jews 
in founding their new Zion? It was the first thought that came 
to my mind. It would be wonderful if the victory gave to the 
Jews their own again. 



Paris, April 4, 1918. 
To A. G. 

This is the first Sunday since I have been in France that I 
have not written to you the first thing in the morning, but I 
wakened with a discouraged feeling, probably due to the fact 
that the big gun boomed the greater part of the night, which 
is very disturbing to sleep. It is the first time we have had it 
at night. Although I am not personally afraid, one can not 
help but wonder what tragedy has followed in its wake. You 
have heard of the slaughter of the innocents in the maternity 
hospital a few days ago, mothers with their new-born babes 
killed or wounded. 

The children are being sent from Paris in colonies as rapidly 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 83 

as possible, the mothers must stay at their v/ork. I have been 
contributing money to mothers for some of them to pay travel- 
ing expenses for the children who have relatives or friends in 
the south. The Bureau of Refugees does not consider Paris 
children refugees. Thank goodness and my friends that I have 
a fund to call on. 

I have felt so unhappy at not doing some army nursing that 
I have written to see if it would not be possible to serve in a 
hospital during my vacation which will be in June. I have 
offered to do night nursing, since I do not feel equal to doing 
those horrible dressings. Dr. Lucas is away, but I am sure he 
will consent if I get the call. Since our men are in the fight 
it has been too much for me; not that I am not willing to care 
for any of the men, but I know that the more men the more 
need of nurses. Two weeks ago one thousand a day passed 
through the hands of one of our units. 

Although the British continue to lose ground a little every 
day, now that Foch is in command confidence has been restored. 

Your day at the Farm seemed like Heaven to me. I hear 
the court ladies next appear in Roman guise, those costumes! 
I would rather see one of Miss Johnson's plays than the Paris 
grand opera. 



Paris, April 7, 1918. 
To A. G. 

Mrs. Ladd says that no one can help her who has not made 
a specialty of portrait sculpture. Dr. Collin might do, but she 
could not come under the Red Cross as she is a neutral. They 
seem to get away from America without trouble, but when they 
arrive here they are held up by the Paris police, who vis6 all 
our personnel. 

Mrs. Ladd is a genius. I try to look after her a little, as 
she neglects herself horribly, when genius burns. She is giving 
new life to men through her masks. 

I am going to lunch with Madame Gotz today, which means 
that I will not only have a good lunch but a talk with a very 
loyal American, who is so proud of her country that she speaks 
of it with tears in her eyes. She has intimate friends among 
the high French people, who give her a good deal of informa- 



84 INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 

tion of the kind we do not ordinarily get. They all admire the 
spirit of our men. They find them adaptable and teachable. 

The English have certainly been giving their life blood for 
the cause. When I read of those brave batallions going down 
as a man all of my Anglo-Saxon blood rises in me to respond 
to the call. 



Paris, April 28, 1918. 
To A. G. 

It has been two weeks since a letter has gone to you — the 
longest period of silence since I left home. I wrote as usual 
last week on the train, but the letter was so smudgy that I did 
not send it, thinking to write another immediately. But these 
last weeks have been strenuous ones, and I had a horrid cold 
which kept me very tired as I coughed so much at night. It is 
much better now. 

But to go back in history (I suppose all we live is history 
now), hearing that things were not going well at the Chateau, 
I decided to take a flying trip down there last week. I picked 
out the psychological moment for it, as the Baby Welfare 
Exhibit had caused such a stir that all the high moguls decided 
to go down to see what all the excitement was about. Miss 
Boardman and Mr. Davison have both been here, and we all 
arrived in Lyons Sunday morning. 

A big Red Cross lunch was given for Mr. Davison, who had 
just come from Italy where he had been much impressed by the 
work of the Red Cross there. He received an ovation in Rome, 
where 50,000 people gathered in the Coliseum to do him honor; 
it must have been a wonderful sight. Every one says that the 
Italians are even more appreciative of the help America has 
given them than the French are, and that is saying a good deal. 
I sat at Mr. Davison's right at the luncheon, which was an 
honor I should not have had according to my ideas of etiquette, 
but I did enjoy it as he was most interesting, and a very inti- 
mate friend of Cousin Loyall's. 

Mr. Davison told me that he considered Dr. Lucas a genius, 
and as I quite agree with him I was glad to have my opinion 
endorsed by so clever a man. He must have been all the more 
impressed by his ability after lunch when we visited the exhibit, 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 85 

and saw 10,500 people standing in line, waiting to get into the 
pavilion. I shall never forget that sight. Last week 72,000 
people attended— the population of Lyons is 700,000— and this 
did not include the school children who are taken every morn- 
ing to it. Dr. Lucas proved that he had a better understanding 
of the French than we had, for we were all skeptical as to the 
possibility of interesting people in an educational exhibit while 
the most terrific battle in the world's history is being fought. 
But the more the men are mowed down the more eager they 
are to save the babies for France. 

In front of the exhibit building, which faces one of their 
beautiful squares, a model playground is teeming with children 
led by two charming girls, Ruth Heyneman being one of them. 
That has been a revelation to the French, but they will have 
to change their laws before much can be done in that line, as 
a school teacher can be sued for damages if a child has an acci- 
dent while at school. Of course the most popular exhibit was 
the washing of the baby which took place in a glass case, a real 
live baby furnished by Madame Gilet. 

^ We have had another rushing week getting off nurses and 
aids to help in our army; not under the military authorities, as 
they have been going into the French hospitals where our men 
are taken since the armies have been joined. It is really a 
very complicated situation. 



To A. G. ""^^^ ''' ''''• 

I am going to St. Cloud. This afternoon I go to Beauvais, 

which is not far from Amiens. Many of our wounded are there! 
We are so proud of the courage and coolness our boys 

show. Madame Goetz always speaks of them with tears in her 

eyes. She hears them spoken of by the French generals. 



86 INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 

Paris, no date (probably May 1, 1918). 
To A. G. 

I have not been waking at dawn lately, consequently have 
not had nearly so much time for work. However this morning 
I got a good start, and now have a few moments. I feel cheer- 
ful as the sun is shining, a most unusual occurrence, and the 
birds are singing, too. I am going to try to get out to Versail- 
les where we have a nursery which needs inspection. We have 
one building of a big establishment where Dr. Lucas is making 
a demonstration of American methods. It is a very difficult 
proposition, as the woman in charge has been there for twenty 
years. We have two nurses there, and eight French pupils. 

I can not tell you how we miss Dr. Lucas, the inspiration 
gone. Quite a number of new nurses (only two aids) came on 
the last boat. I have been trying to give them an idea of the 
situation here; I think this experience will be a revelation to 
many. I am sure I shall never be the same again. I feel sure 
you will find a changed point of view on many subjects. 

I did not realize until I left home that all my work in life 
had been done surrounded by and supported by people whom I 
love and who love me; but in spite of the difficulties, the cause 
here is so big and so worth while that one is willing to suffer 
for it. 



Paris, May 2, 1918. 
To A. G. 

This morning I awakened to the sound of birds, and sun- 
shine streams in my windows, and I decided to celebrate by 
writing to you instead of doing my daily French lesson. I do 
not think we have had three weeks of sunshine since we have 
been in France. The climate certainly is horrible, and I am told 
it is still worse in England. 

Still the flowers do bloom in spite of it; the trees are not all 
out yet in Paris, but the slow spring has its compensations in 
the thorough enjoyment of each unfolding blossom. The 
Champs Elysees has been lovely for a month, and now that the 
horse chestnuts are in bloom I think of our dear old buck-eyes 
at the Farm, and I feel lonesome. This formal gardening with 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 87 

stiff, regular flower beds makes no appeal to me ; I love English 
parks much better. If it were not for the Seine I would not 
care for Paris at all. On May Day everyone was presenting 
little bunches of lilies of the valley to friends for good luck; I 
had several pathetic little bunches brought me by grateful peo- 
ple. 

I expected to get off to Beauvais, but it takes interminable 
time to get passes to move about. It makes our work very 
difficult. Margaret Robins has been in Paris for three weeks 
trying to get papers. 

Hannah Hobart is very much excited at the idea of going 
into a military hospital. Our nurses write me pathetic accounts 
of our men, and we were asked for ten more nurses yesterday. 
I have not seen Dick since last September; he seems to be in the 
thick of this battle, and never has time to write. 

You asked in your letter about Mademoiselle De Rose, you 
will be glad to hear that we have one of our most flourishing 
dispensaries at her settlement, and I gave her five hundred 
francs to help send her children to the country. We are all 
anxious to get the children out of Paris, as so many are killed. 
Is it not ghastly, a war on children! Think of those killed in 
their mother's arms when the maternity hospital was shelled f 
The women were all thrown from their beds, and many babes 
killed, and the mothers seriously injured. 

Last night we sent off sixty children to Evian, as the hospi- 
tal there is empty. The rapatries have not been coming in 
since the big drive started. It is a long trip for the Paris chil- 
dren, twenty-three hours on the train, but I sent a doctor and 
seven nurses and aids with them. 



Paris, May 5, 1918. 
To A. G. 

I have spent the greater part of the week straightening out 
the educational course; the first class of "Visitenses TEnfants," 
as they are called, is just finishing, and another about to begin. 
Every individual in the class had quite a different idea of what 
the obligations of the Red Cross were to her, and of hers to it; 
the course was not half long enough, covering only a period of 
six weeks. But all is going smoothly now for the new course. 



88 INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 

I have doubled the time, and intend to send the students into 
our hospitals when they have completed the course, before 
sending them into the field. 

We are giving these instructions in three places, Paris, 
Lyons, and Marseilles, thirty students in each class, so you see 
we should in a year turn out a good many French women pre- 
pared to take part in the Infant Mortality campaign. A series 
of twenty lectures is given them by French doctors, besides the 
lectures given by the nurses. We have one nurse who speaks 
French fluently for each set of students, besides several others 
who speak well enough to explain their demonstrations. But 
you must read the details in my article to Miss Crandall. 

Tomorrow I go to Beauvais, where so many of our men are 
in the French hospitals. I feel quite sure that my place is just 
where I am. I would willingly turn over every nurse we have 
to our men if they need it, it seems to me to be our first obliga- 
tion. Do you think I am right in this? It seems to me that if 
our own are neglected all the work we do for civilian France 
will not count. 

You ask about the children's clothing; I have not yet heard 
of the arrival of any, but am sure some must have come as they 
have it in the warehouse. 

I have given up in despair trying to get individuals over 
here, there are so many stumbling blocks put in the way. 

I can not answer your question about how the man with 
artificial fingers learned to be a clerk. Why not write and ask 
him? 



Paris, May 5, 1918. 
To C. S. 

The Lucases got off last week, and I miss them very much. 
I hated to see them leave without me. I suppose I will be over 
here several years longer from the looks of things. 

I am going to Beauvais on Monday where many of our men 
are being cared for in French hospitals by our nurses, mostly 
mine, as I have lent them to the Military Affairs of the Red 
Cross — not to the army. I have also let them have a number of 
aids, who are most acceptable as they speak French. I wish 
that I had three times as many aids, but it seems impossible to 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 89 

get them. My aids are a really very exceptionally fine set of 
girls. 

We are beginning to have a few bright days; the sun shines 
occasionally. I do miss our California sun. It rains or fogs 
here nine days out of ten, but the trees are out and the flowers 
in bloom. The Champs Elysees is lovely. 



Paris, May 10, 1918. 
To C. L. 

I fully intended to get up early this morning, and go to St. 
Germain, where I hear that the woods are full of lovely flowers, 
but of course it is raining! It rains or is foggy nine days out 
of ten over here, I am just homesick for some California sun- 
shine. I expected to see at St. Germain, Malmaison, the 
house where Josephine lived. 

In spite of the bad weather the flowers are wonderful now. 
I wish you could see the flower market near the Madelaine, I 
walk by there every day. Miss Griffith writes me how lovely 
everything looks at the Farm. Barbara is there again, and I 
am glad as I think she has the interests of the place at heart. 
I wonder how long it will be before we are all there together 
again. I hope the children have a party on the 16th of June, 
I am going to send Miss Griffith some money to get something 
for them. I do not want them to quite forget us, do you. 

Last week I went to Beauvais, a town not far from the 
French lines where our men are fighting. I have been sending 
a number of my nurses and aids there to care for our men in 
the French hospitals. They are all mixed up in the wards with 
the French, so it is not very satisfactory, and of course the 
French idea of nursing is very different from ours, but the 
nurses are fine about it all, and do the best they can. They feel 
It worth while just for the comfort the boys get from talking to 
them. They often cry when they first see an American, the 
relief is so great. You see they do not understand what is 
being done for them, so have no confidence. The French sur- 
geons are very fine and do all in their power for our men, they 
are kindness itself to them. The other day one died at Gisor, 
a small town near Beauvais; the whole town turned out to 



90 INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 

honor him, and they found a Protestant clergyman to read the 
service. All the school children followed the hearse with 
flowers, it was most touching. The nurse, one of mine, wrote 
to his mother all about it. The poor fellow was a Virginian, 
and sang just before he died, "To Be in Old Virginia." 

I saw ever so many wounded from Dick's regiment. I 
visited twelve hospitals, one thousand beds in each hospital. I 
think the Red Cross will open a hospital there for our men; we 
already have a small children's hospital which will be con- 
verted into a military one. There is a great difference between 
the army and the military Red Cross, you must not get them 
mixed up — when I say military I always mean Red Cross. 

More nurses are coming over now, I am glad to say, but not 
more aids, and the latter are really more important at present, 
as the nurses who do not speak French are pretty helpless in 
the French hospitals. Fortunately the nurses who came over 
first have picked up a good deal. 

A French woman came to me yesterday and asked if this 
was the place where eye tickets were given out, said she had 
lost her eye when she had measles and would like one. You see 
they come to the Red Cross for everything. I took her to the 
dispensary where she got an order for one. 



Name of place censored, May 19, 1918. 
To A. G. 

While awaiting my tempting breakfast which will consist of 
bad coffee without sugar or cream and bread without butter, I 
will try at least to begin a letter to you. The loss of my 
fountain pen certainly was a serious one; you will have to be 
content with pencil which is most disagreeable, I know. 

I had a perfectly heavenly twelve-hour trip here yesterday. 
The day was perfect, the country so beautiful, and I so ner- 
vously tired at the end of an exasperating week. But I do not 
intend to talk shop this lovely May morning. It is Whit Sun- 
day, and I have decided to spend the day quietly here by myself, 
going to church and for a walk. I met a very sweet, friendly 
girl from Kentucky on the train yesterday, whose mother-in- 
law lives near here at Chateau Neuf. She says it is a wonder- 
fully interesting place built in the time of Louis XI, who slept 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 91 

there one night. I am to go out to tea with her this afternoon. 
Her mother-in-law was an American, Miss Polk, who married 
a famous French general. 

Tomorrow I will cross to Dinard and inspect the thousand 
little refugees from Nancy, who have been there for six weeks 
without a change of clothing, which reminds me that the pack- 
age of nightgowns arrived from Mrs. Griffith. Thank her and 
tell her that I will write soon and thank her for them, and for 
the Easter greeting which was the only one which reached me. 
Just before leaving Paris I received a letter from Dick, the first 
since he took his part in the offensive — I cabled his mother — 
I can not tell you how relieved I was to see his hand-writing. 

The trip was a joy from start to finish. You know how this 
country looks in spring, all so tenderly beautiful, such a con- 
trast to our mountains, valleys, ravines, and great stretches of 
plains carpeted with intense colors. This is the perfect time, as 
the trees are not all out, many just showing feathery green on 
the swaying branches — I have never seen so many shades of 
green. Then the fruit blossoms, hawthorne, bridal wreath, and 
best of all, I thought, fields of buttercups, the only familiar 
wild flowers I have seen. The genesta is in full bloom, you 
know how beautiful that is I I am charmed, too, by the absence 
of fences, the lovely blooming hedges make the division, but 
it certainly is not humanly speaking economical, as each cow, 
horse, and pig in France has to have an individual guardian to 
keep him from going astray; it is too amusing to see them 
take their animals out for a walk just as people do pet dogs 
once a day for a constitutional! And the birds, they are so 
delicious, I have never heard such singing! The flowering 
hedges are just filled with them. And scattered all through this 
lovely country the old houses with their tiled and moss-covered 
roofs only add to the enchantment. 

St. Malo, I am told, is lovely. I am looking forward to a 
day of bliss, away from the sound of guns and "Alerts." I 
shall try to forget that the world is at war. 



92 INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 



Paris, May 26, 1918. 
To A. G. 

Since writing to you on the train of the beauties and de- 
lights of my trip to San Malo I have had an eventful week. I 
traveled with the Marquise de Charette, who was en route to 
her country place near San Malo. We became very friendly 
at the end of a twelve-hour voyage together, so it ended in my 
spending Sunday afternoon at the most beautiful place I have 
seen in France, and it was most interesting, too. The Baroness 
de Charette is the widow of a very famous French general who 
raised a volunteer regiment of Zouaves to take to Italy to de- 
fend the Pope against Garibaldi. His regiment presented him 
with this beautiful place. It is full of interesting relics of Gari- 
baldi's army, etc. The chateau was built in the time of Louis 
XI, and is a dream, simply covered with ivy. 

Madame Charette was a Miss Polk. She is a woman of about 
eighty, very well preserved and full of energy; her only son is 
in the tank service and was wounded some time ago. The 
tanks, it seems, can only be used in an offensive, this should 
relieve Millie's mind about Loyall, as we are not apt to have an 
offensive soon. Madame Charette knew your cousin, Mr. Stone, 
when she was a girl. She told me with great pride that they 
were once the only two people outside the royal family at some 
function in Russia. 

We walked through the most heavenly woods you can 
imagine, where the marguerites, primroses, forget-me-nots, and 
lillies of the valley grew thick in the high grass. I nearly lost 
my head with the beauty of it all. It did me lots of good 
because I found that I had some capacity for enjoyment left 
in me still. "To him who in the love of nature holds com- 
munion with her visible forms, she speaks a various language. 
She glides into his darker moments with a mild and healing 
sympathy that steals away the sharpness ere he is aware." 

And San Malo, is it not beautiful there? I sat on the ram- 
parts through the long twilight, saw. the moon come up over 
the waters, and in listening to the waves felt less lonely than 
I have since leaving home. The next morning after this day 
of relief and bliss I went over to Dinard, where the colony of 
one thousand children from Nancy are under our medical super- 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 93 

vision, these are not under the direct supervision of the Red 
Cross, but are supposed to be looked after by the Nancy people. 

The next day I started direct for Paris, expecting to arrive 
here that same night, but was diverted by one of the members 
of the Smith unit who was on her way to Mont St. Michael. 
I found that I could go with her by taking the night train for 
Paris. We had a wonderful day together; you know what a 
miracle that place is, built out of that solid rock. I paid for my 
pleasure by a night of horror on the train where I stood for 
three hours, and then got a seat in a second-class carriage 
between two men, one of whom smoked a pipe all night. 

Miss Bliss, the Smith girl, told me a tale of absorbing inter- 
est 2ilthough of horror. She literally took part in the retreat of 
the British army. Their unit was at Nesle, and they moved 
back inch by inch as the Boche approached. It was a thrilling 
experience and all so tragic. This unit had for months kept 
open house for these men at Nesle, and knew many of them 
intimately. Most of them were killed or taken prisoners. These 
very same fleeing men, when they met the French coming to 
their rescue, turned about and fought splendidly. The Smith 
unit slowly retreated to Beauvais where they are running a can- 
teen, and visiting our men who are in the French hospitals. 
They are a fine lot. I am glad I sent Camilla there. 

I am going to get up now and go to St. Germain for the 
day, and try to forget the horrors of war. You asked me why 
I do not dictate my letters to my stenographer to save time, 
you must remember that they are all written on Sunday. I am 
not writing any more to Miss Crandall as she has never 
acknowledged any I sent her, so I suppose they are not what 
she wants. 



94 INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 



Memorial Day, Paris, 1918. 
To L. McL. and C. A. S. 

The last three days have been more strenuous than usual. 
Big Bertha announced the beginning of the new offensive. It is 
very thoughtful of the Hun to keep us so well informed of his 
plans. I immediately began sending telegrams to my nurses to 
report in Paris. I thought I wouldn't wait until a hurry call 
came for them. Unfortunately Dr. Knox was away so I had to 
assume a good deal of authority and take a big responsibility as 
we have not nearly enough nurses at the various hospitals and 
dispensaries, as it is. While frantic telegrams were coming in 
for help from our different centers, I was sending equally 
frantic ones for nurses. Then news from the front came pour- 
ing in, calls for help to arrive, and when a conference was 
called and a demand was made on me for forty nurses, and I 
was able to produce forty-three instantly, the relief of the Mili- 
tary Affairs Committee was great. Those nurses got off yester- 
day afternoon in big trucks to the front and I assure you I had 
a big lump in my throat when 1 saw the last of them. The 
Boche are systematically trying to get the hospitals, especially 
the American — the hospital for which half of those nurses were 
destined was shelled the day before. Our little refugee hospital 
in the same place had bombs dropped on it a few days ago. 
One of the nurses wrote me that she had saved a new-born baby 
by sheltering it in her arms. I will enclose you the letter she 
wrote. The patients from this hospital have all been evacuated 
now so I have turned over the staff to the military. 

This is one of the most soul-stirring days I have ever spent. 
In the early morning I read of the Hun advance, that Soissons 
was taken, of the danger Rheims was in, of the wonderful 
fighting side by side of the British and French troops, and then 
to cheer and give us hope, of the splendid fighting and success 
of our men, who in the midst of this general retreat actually 
made some advance. Madame Gotz told me about it with tears 
in her eyes. A French officer had telephoned to her, she said 
to me when I met her at church, "My dear, it was so magnifi- 
cent, I am proud of my country." She has lived over here for 
fifty years. The boys went over the top as cheerfully as if they 
were playing baseball. My nurses went eagerly to the front. 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 95 

Those few who were left behind were in tears. After they left 
there was a few moments lull, so I slipped into the American 
Church for the Memorial Day service. I longed for you both. 
It was the most wonderful and inspiring service I ever attended. 
The church was beautifully decorated with poppies, bluets and 
white sweet peas. When the boys marched up the aisle carry- 
ing on high their standards, followed by a number with 
shouldered arms singing the "Son of God Goes Forth to War,** 
it was all the congregation could do to refrain from kneeling 
down to conceal their tears. They looked so big and fine and 
grave and handsome and we knew they were, too, for we had 
just been reading of their glorious fighting which has done 
much to keep up the morale of the allies, as they say all the 
time "more like them are pouring over." And just think of it, 
my dear sisters, your boys are right there, taking a splendid 
part in this great struggle which is going to settle the destiny 
of the world for so many generations to come. How proud 
you must be of them, I have some little idea of your feelings as 
I have such a feeling of pride, when I say, "I have four nephews 
at the front," now that Rogers is here, I count the fourth. I 
had a note from him. 

The hymn was followed by the reading of the President's 
message, some solemn music rendered by an English military 
band, then a sort of requiem service which we realized would 
be the only service which would be read for some of our boys. 
Finally the three national anthems were sung with a fervor I 
have never heard before. You would both have felt upheld and 
uplifted in this great sacrifice you are daily making, if you could 
have seen the shining faces of those men and boys who are 
going forth to fight for justice, truth and liberty. Be of good 
courage and remember that I am at hand always and ready to 
go to them if they need me. 



96 INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 

Paris, June 1, 1918. 
To A. G. 

Big Bertha is booming again this morning, a report was so 
loud a moment since that it nearly startled me out of bed. As 
you know the second drive is on, and we are rushing nurses to 
the front. 

Our work is suffering terribly by it. For instance, I have 
been calling nurses to Paris for several weeks, knowing that 
they would suddenly be needed. Yesterday the Military Af- 
fairs sent in a call for twenty nurses, fortunately most of my 
nurses are availble. 



Paris, June 2, 1918. 
To A. G. 

I wrote you in my last of the queer pain I had in my arm 
and throat which I thought was rheumatism. Well, after half 
a night's rest it was much better. I had quite made up my mind 
that I would spend Sunday in bed, but after hearing a tale of 
tragedy from one of my guests, I got up and went out to the 
American Ambulance, where I knew I could find out the true 
state of affairs. There I found every comer filled with our 
wounded, but they were getting on all right, very grateful to 
me for the help sent, I sent out some of the Paris dispensary 
nurses to help for a few days. I am going to hang on to some 
of the Paris nurses as long as possible as they fit into all kinds 
of emergencies. I think my mission in life at present is to do 
odd jobs, and am hauling in nurses from all sides. I met a 
canteen worker the other day who told me she was a graduate 
nurse, but not in the Red Cross because she had no obstetrics! 
I explained to her that this was no maternity job, and had her 
signed up before she knew where she was. I gathered in eight 
last week who were not connected with us. Anne Morgan has 
a number of floating people and the American fund contributed 
three. I am so grateful for my promiscuous acquaintanceship; 
Mrs. Lathrop, Willie Gwin, Anne Morgan, Mrs. Vanderbilt are 
all useful people to know. 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 97 



June 5. 

Na time to finish the other morning. I have had a mad sort 
of day. Most unsatisfactory, except that I found a dozen more 
nurses for our men. 

At five o'clock I saw our nurses and aids off to the front, 
reaHzing that some may never return. It was a big responsi- 
bility sending those aids who had come for children's work, 
but they were eager to go and I think it is their right to volun- 
teer for such service just as their brothers do. 

We hear better news tonight, but so far nothing ofiFicial. 



Paris, June 12, 1918. 
To E. C. G. 

I have been really nursing at last. I have been going to 
the American Ambulance at Neuilly every day helping out. 
When our Marines went so suddenly into the fight at Chateau 
Theirry, our hospitals weren't prepared for the large number of 
wounded that suddenly and unexpectedly arrived, it was terrible. 
The hospital at Neuilly almost over night increased from 600 
to 1,500 beds. The nurses were routed out of their beds at 
eleven p. m., one night, and wounded from the operating room 
brought right in. You can't imagine anything like it. The 
slightly wounded were sent away at quickly as possible to make 
room for more, consequently there was a continuous stream of 
stretchers going and coming. The men were perfectly splendid. 
I never saw a finer lot of boys, they really are boys, very few 
even twenty-one years old, many seventeen. The engineers did 
splendid work, they just threw aside their picks and shovels, and 
fought to the death. Really even our papers can't exaggerate 
the courage and spirit of those boys. The French are wild over 
them. Strangers meet us on the street and embrace us in 
gratitude, it is most embarrassing, as we all feel as a nation 
that we can't do enough. The boys talk freely to me while I 
do their dressings, make beds, etc. It is really so extraordinary 
to hear them recount their killing of men. I can't get over 
the shock. When I ask the men how they feel when they just 



98 INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 

kill a man, they say it generally happens after they have seen 
some of their comrades killed, and rage fills their hearts. I 
think it all too dreadful, but how they can unflinchingly face 
that deadly machine gun fire, and see thousands mowed down 
before them, I can't understand. The doctors and orderlies are 
so tender with the men, the stretcher bearers handle them so 
lovingly, it is very touching. The thing that upsets me more 
than anything else is their simple gratitude. Most of these 
boys come from good homes, and they have found this last 
year in the trenches pretty difficult. Very few gentle words 
have been spoken to them and they have suffered so many real 
hardships, such as having no water for days, being without 
food, sleeping in damp ditches, etc., that in spite of their 
wounds, the hospital seems like heaven. I wish I had time 
to write you more fully of it. I enclose a small donation for 
the Ross Chapel, use it as you like. 



Paris, June 13, 1918. 
To A. G. 

Not since I left home has no long a period elapsed without 
my writing, but when I tell you the cause you will understand 
and forgive. Last week I got so upset over the stories of 
wounded (it was just after the Marines had fought so splen- 
didly near Chateau Thierry) that I just went out to the 
American Ambulance, saw for myself the conditions, and offered 
my services, which were thankfully accepted. Then I went back 
and asked for a vacation, which was granted me by Dr. Knox 
most sympathetically, he knowing that I would not ask for one 
at this time unless I absolutely needed it. After making the 
leave safe I told him my plan. 

Well, I have been through a week of horror, but thankful- 
ness, too, that I have the training which enables me to relieve 
a little of this suffering. I can not write to you about it, but 
you will appreciate somewhat the nursing situation when I 
tell you that I had a tent containing thirty-six men turned over 
to me, eighteen of whom had been admitted in the night, and 
many of whom had been operated on, four coming out of ether 
when I arrived, and no nurse had been near them, there being 
none to send. Convalescent patients were looking out for them 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 99 

in a fashion. The hospital in a few days almost doubled in 
size. Twenty nurses were promised six weeks ago but have 
not arrived yet. One takes care of sixty-four patients, assisted 
by three aids. 

Of course at the end of a day of these dreadful sights, the 
unaccustomed lifting, bending, etc., I am almost exhausted, but 
I sleep well and wake more rested than I have for a long time. 



En route to Rouen, June 22, 1918. 
To A. G. 

It is a difficult matter to write on the trains as they are 
hopelessly jerky, but I am going to try to write to you a sort 
of progressive letter, writing at the stations. Oh I for a foun- 
tain pen! I am really lost without one. I have bought two 
and both no good. 

The work became so light at the Ambulance at the end of 
my second week that I decided to take a few days off and 
inspect our dispensary at Rouen. It is for refugees at the sta- 
tion. Rouen is in the English war zone, and two of our base 
hospitals are there. The town has been bombarded for several 
weeks now, we hear that Big Bertha*s efforts have been directed 
there instead of on Paris. 

I have just been talking to an English officer; he asked me 
if the Fifth Marines had been in the fight at Chateau Thierry, 
he has been with them near Verdun. I answered "Yes, the 
Fifth was almost wiped out, in one instance only four men 
being left in a company." They are composed of young, ardent 
boys who think the world is theirs, as I wrote you before they 
range in age from seventeen to twenty. If you ask one if he 
was not afraid or if he can bear the pain of a dreadful wound, 
the answer always is: "Why, I am a Marine!" 

A Frenchman yesterday told me that he had received a letter 
from a friend from the trenches with the following character- 
istic tale in it: Two reconnoitering parties of ten each had been 
sent out in opposite directions. The French, having accom- 
plished their mission returned to the base, but it was a long 
time before anything was seen of the Americans, who finally 
appeared triumphant with a number of prisoners. It seems that 



100 INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 

they had gone where they were sent, to the first line of trenches, 
but seeing no one, they penetrated to the second line, captured 
some prisoners, and then returned as things began to get too 
hot for them. Now, much of this kind of thing is really fool- 
hardy, but the moral effect of their young enthusiasm upon 
these tired allied armies is really a reviving force which seems 
to make the sacrifice worth while. The French simply hug 
them in delight, particularly here where they are placed between 
the oncoming hordes of barbarians and Paris. 

It does not seem possible with the present grim determina- 
tion set against it that the Boche will ever enter Paris. Did I 
write you the answer a Frenchman made the other day to a 
Red Cross worker who asked him if he thought the Boche 
would come to Paris? "Did you ever see a pig in the streets 
of Paris? No? Well, you never will!" 



Sunday A. M., Rouen. 

What a beautiful, interesting place this is, but one*s pleasure 
in seeing these wonderful churches, monuments, and public 
buildings is destroyed by the ever-present fear that at any 
moment the Boche big gun, which is now trained on Rouen, 
may destroy in the twinkling of an eye beauty which it has 
taken centuries to create, and which the hand of man is power- 
less to reproduce. It is strange how one trembles with fear 
for these wonderful historic monuments while the thought of 
personal danger is very remote. 

I climbed to the top of the cathedral tower, the first time I 
have done such a thing in France, always having a vivid recol- 
lection of how my knees ached when descending the Mission 
tower at Santa Barbara. I climbed the tower with a very 
pleasant EngHsh officer, and he and I forgot the war, and 
reminiscenced on the beauties of Rome. I think this place is 
more full of historic interest and beauty than any other town 
I have visited, but one can not forget the war for long as the 
British Tommies fill the streets. I met a very enthusiastic 
American woman who has been married ten years to a French- 
man, and she acted as my guide. 

The refugees came in here in hordes two weeks ago, but 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 101 

now it is pretty quiet. We have a dispensary at the station, a 
doctor and nurse in charge. The doctor here is the sister of 
Mr. Coolige who was at Burlingame for so long. 

To return to Rouen, I am particularly enthusiastic over the 
Palace of Justice which I think is a perfect public building, it 
is so wonderfully harmonious. And do you remember the little 
church of St. Maclou quite near the Cathedral? It is strange 
that the English are finally here allies with their ancient 
enemies, the French, in the very spot where they captured Joan 
of Arc and burned her so many centuries ago. The French are 
very enthusiastic over the Americans as fighters. A Frenchman 
explained to me the difference between American and British 
the other day; he said that if a company of French or Ameri- 
can men lost their officers they would go right on just the same, 
but when the English lost their officers they lost their heads. 

There are thousands of women laborers here doing men's 
work; they are dreadful looking people, hard-featured and very 
bold expressions. The V. A. D.'s are most attractive just like 
my aids, who really are the flower of our civil army here. Nine 
of them returned from a French hospital where they have been 
for six weeks, Hannah H. and Margaret Robins among them. 
The former is a perfect dear, so simple and genuine. We all 
dined together before they left again for the front, and included 
Mary Eyre, who is installed at the American Ambulance, taking 
histories for the home service. 



Paris, June 26, 1918. 
To C. A. S. and L. McL. 

After a three v/eeks' letter famine it was with joy that today 
I received an accumulated mail consisting of 22 letters, wasn't 
that wonderful? I had a perfect feast. Miss Maxwell and Miss 
Dabney have also arrived laden with packages and news for me, 
so I feel very happy and close to you all. The war news is 
more encouraging, too, the feeling here is that America has 
shown what her men can do, although they have not spent their 
lives in the study and art of killing men. They learn so quickly 
and are so eager to be taught, that it is half the battle. We are 
so proud of them, I know you will often think that much that 



102 INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 

you read of their wonderful work is newspaper talk but I assure 
you that nothing we say surpasses what the French say of 
them. I overheard a party of Frenchmen talking the other 
night at a restaurant and one said, and they all agreed, that 
in the time to come when history would tell the tale, that Bel- 
gium and America would get the credit for saving democracy 
and liberty, and that Wilson would have a widespread fame, 
second only to that of Christ. Every one here simply idolizes 
Wilson, they think him the greatest prophet of democracy that 
the world has ever seen. 



Paris, June 27, 1918. 
To A. G. 

You know my feeling of relief and joy when at last after a 
three weeks' fast all your letters came. I was the envy of the 
whole office, I always am, for no one has such true and devoted 
friends as I have. 

I was so glad to hear about the Red Cross parade; half a 
dozen people wrote me, "I will not tell you about it, as Alice 
surely will." Curiously enough you never mentioned it until it 
was over. I would have given a great deal to have seen our 
Telegraph Hill mothers march — that was a real triumph. The 
whole thing must have been inspiring. 

I must tell you that I have had a change of heart in regard 
to the service flags after reading a letter one of our wounded 
boys had from home. His mother wrote, "My flag has two 
stars, and in each star I see the face of my boy." Outward 
and visible signs do not mean to me, I fear, as much as they 
should. For instance there is a service stripe given over here 
for every six months of service; now, it does not appeal to me 
at all to wear on my sleeve the advertisement of the fact that 
I have for six months been doing an obvious duty. 

As to the nurses, it is really difficult to have hospitals ready 
at every point because, of course, no one but old Hindenburg 
knows just where the attack will be made, and he won't tell! 
For instance, we rushed all our nurses to a certain point when 
one attack was on; they did magnificent, heroic work for two 
weeks in a hospital which was being shelled, and now for three 
weeks have had nothing to do as that sector has been very 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 103 

quiet. If they are withdrawn, tomorrow the sector may become 
the center of the conflict, and we would again be unprepared. 
I have a real feeling for the first time that the end is in 
sight. Our men have made such a splendid showing, and are 
coming over so rapidly that I believe the Huns will not be will- 
ing to enter upon another spring campaign. 



Paris, July 9, 1918. 
To A. G. 

On Sunday I wrote you at intervals pretty much all day, 
and now I have lost the letter, which is really a great bore, as 
it is so difficult to write the same thing again. 

The 4th celebration in Paris made that day a never to be 
forgotten one to those who were privileged to take part in the 
ceremonies. For a week before we watched with the deepest 
interest the preparations which were made all over the city, in 
fact all over France. The Stars and Stripes decorated every 
building, you know how beautifully they arrange the flags in the 
shields. Our flag was placed in the center, flanked on each side 
by French flags. To our delight the nurses were asked by the 
French government to march in the parade. It was the first 
time women have ever marched in a parade in Paris. We formed 
in the Place de la Trocadero at 8:45 a. m. I carried the flag, 
it was the proudest moment of my life, in fact don't think I 
ever had that proud feeling before. But when we fell in line 
behind the Marines, our band playing Dixie and I held that ban- 
ner on high to the cheers of the crowd "Vive I'Amerique," I 
really felt that I had reached the supreme moment of my life. 
You can't, or I rather think you can, imagine the exalted sensa- 
tion of marching through that sea of cheering people, throwing 
flowers before us, and every now and then some one would dart 
from the crowd, saying: "I want to touch that flag, I love it 
so, — the flowers are for it." That kind of thing happened not 
once but many times. Our splendid Marines got the ovation 
they deserved. When we marched by the grand stand where 
Joffre, Clemenceau, Lloyd-George, and the President were 
seated, I dipped the flag following the instructions of an army 
officer. I was terribly excited doing that as I had to keep step 
at the same time, count spaces, etc., and see the flag didn't 



104 INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 

touch. After it was over another army officer told me that I 
shouldn't have dipped the flag, that only regimental colors were 
dipped, not the flag, — it got dipped anyway, correct or not. Miss 
Maxwell marched at my side with the Red Cross flag. She 
marched like a young girl, we did not disband till 12 m., so you 
see it was very fatiguing. The nurses made quite a good ap- 
pearance, Norfolk suits, black sailors and white turn-over col- 
lars, very severe, but I thought very dignified. There were 120, 
all the night nurses from the Paris hospitals and our Paris dis- 
pensary nurses. 

In the afternoon we went to the Ambassadeurs Restaurant, 
Ave. Gabrielle, where the American Fund for French Wounded 
had a wonderful entertainment for our wounded, they were all 
brought in ambulances from the hospitals, the poor fellows 
were a tragic lot, so many limbs gone, but they were wonder- 
fully cheerful and so gentle and tender with each other. Mrs. 
Lathrop managed it all beautifully, she is a most capable woman 
and has been a very useful friend to me. 

Miss Maxwell and I decided to finish the day at the Char- 
maunt Palace where a mammoth entertainment was given for 
our boys. It was really a great sight, about 3,000 of our men 
packed in that great place, an American band playing familiar 
airs (familiar to them not to me) and Elsie Janis (the idol of 
our army) stand there before them all, telling funny stories, 
dancing or singing. The applause would nearly raise the roof, 
it was deafening, but such a relief after the tense days we have 
all been through; the second half of the program was boxing, 
I can't say I enjoyed it, but I was amused at Miss Maxwell who 
so caught the spirit of the occasion that she sat beside me 
shouting with the boys, "That's right, give it to him." We had 
a little dinner before going, just six of us and I produced the 
fruit cake you sent to celebrate with, it was really very good 
in spite of the tin and we all enjoyed it. I called it Porter's 
birthday cake. 

The next morning early I left for Dijon, Miss Maxwell had 
left for Tours before my return. I had such a good time at 
Dijon with Loyall Sewall who spent two days with me. I met 
his Major just before leaving Paris and he telegraphed to 
Loyall, who is stationed in that vicinity, two days* leave,^ — 
wasn't it fine? He looked splendidly and is in the best of 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 105 

spirits. I will enclose a letter from Dick, which I think also 
sounds very cheerful. 

I am saving my vacation, hoping to be able to join him in 
the near future somewhere, for a few days. We are supposed 
to have two weeks* vacation at the end of every six months. I 
have taken a week of mine when I went to the hospital at 
Neuilly. I don't feel the need of it but would like a few days 
with Dick. 

I saw Miss Johnston from San Francisco at Dijon. I lent 
her to the canteen there, she is doing fine work. 



Paris, July 10, 1918. 
To A. G. 

Such a good batch of letters yesterday— in addition to the 
faithfuls who never neglect me (you, Camilla, Linie and Mil- 
lie) one from Laura McKinstry and Ethel Beaver, both very 
characteristic and interesting. I remember so well that little 
boy Purcell Jones — he used to play in the most fascinating way 
with the pansies in his garden; I am sure he is an artist. 

All that you write me of the Well Babies Clinic is deeply 
interesting. Are you keeping any kind of statistics so that we 
can prove that we have reduced the death rate in that neighbor- 
hood? I do not believe it would be possible to prove this, as 
I doubt if the San Francisco Vital Statistics are kept in districts 
as they are here. 

Most of our nurses are in the French hospitals where our 
men are. They get on surprisingly well; the public health 
nurses get on better than the army nurses as they are more 
adaptable. Did I ever tell you that I had picked out a nurse 
to take home with me? Miss Bears, from Waltham— she is 
doing splendid work now in the Service de Sante. I am sure 
Miss Johnson will like her. Hope the salary will be ready for 
her in four years. One year of that five I came for has passed 
— ^it seems like ten. 

We all hope for a fine 14th celebration. The next time I 
march with that flag it will be through the Arch de Triumph 
with the Kaiser in chains at my side! We are so proud of the 
way that our men are coming over, and I am told by the 
quartermaster that our army is self-supporting, besides having 



106 INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 

much surplus for the French. In truth it is a miracle when I 
think of how impossible all declared it to be. 

The army has the utmost confidence in Pershing. I think 
it is so wonderful that we have proved again (the last time in 
76) that it does not take years of miHtary training — the neces- 
sity of keeping up a big military establishment — to fight success- 
fully for right and win against veterans. The French and Eng- 
lish say that our men fight just as well as the seasoned troops, 
and with much more enthusiasm. Of course these poor fellows 
are worn out, but so are the Germans. Just let the numbers 
keep up and victory is in sight — I feel sure of it although we 
probably have some hard days ahead. 



The following letter portrays so vividly the work the nurses 
and aids are called upon to perform that it is inserted here., 

Beauvais, July 11, 1918. 
Dear Miss Ashe. 

I've been meaning to write you for a long time but somehow 
its about all I can accomplish to get off my weekly leter to the 
family. There is so much to do when work is over. I wish 
clean collars and cuffs would grow on uniforms during the 
night. 

The last time I really wrote you was when we were so busy 
with our 122 gassed. As they began to be evacuated and the 
work let up, Miss Christians and Miss Hoadley were sent to 
Field 12 so Miss Wilson and I had our hands full again. The 
night of the 28th was fearful in regard to bombs. After a 
second attack I went up stairs to bed but was no sooner in 
that Madame Jiller called me to say that a brancardier had 
come to say they wanted me at the hospital at once. I dressed 
and went out into the inky black deserted street. I will have 
to admit that I ran all the way there and kept my head more or 
less ducked as the shrapnel had only just stopped clattering on 
the street. I opened the door of the entrance room and by the 
dim light of one shaded lamp saw it crowded with stretchers 
and all around the edge wounded sitting up. They were all 
Americans. The bombs began dropping again outside and I 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 107 

began to go through the necessary admitting papers for them. 
Not one complained— I was so proud of them before the French 
clerks. They had come straight from the front, Cantigny, 
without any stop at a field hospital, with just their gory first 
aid dressings on. It took from 12:30 to 7:30 a. m. to get them 
all done and that was working perfectly steadily. More kept 
fiUing in throughout the night. 

The next day you can easily imagine that we were busy. 
Miss Wilson had, I think, twenty new gas cases whom she had 
not only to dress but to wash, besides her old ones and I was 
running from one place to another interpreting, of course had 
to work some in the gas ward. One boy only died that day. 
That night eleven more came in from Field 12, all were very 
bad abdomen and chest cases. The gas boys were all evacuated 
during the next few days but for a while we had more Ameri- 
cans than they did at the American Hospital. Finally there 
were about sixty-five wounded left, scattered through all the 
wards. Miss Wilson went on night duty in the ward with the 
worst ones. Joll Clark took a whole week to die in the most 
awful pain. He was the nicest, bravest boy and we both could 
hardly bear it. All his last night he called Miss Wilson 
"Mother." She kept being called by orderlies from other wards 
for different patients and so was more than busy. I interpreted 
for patients, doctors and nurses, till I really didn't know 
whether I was speaking French or English. It was the greatest 
satisfaction, though, to be able to get them fixed up. Sometimes 
the smallest things which they wanted but couldn't explain 
seemed to make the boys perfectly contented. 

Finally by the 11th of June when the big rush of French 
wounded came, there were only five Americans left. That night 
Miss Headley and Miss Wilson went to the American Hospital. 
I'd been on during the day but everyone was so swamped with 
work that I stayed and it wasn't until 5:30 a. m. that we got 
the last of the poor, half-dead, men off their stretchers and 
into bed. We all three went back in the morning and washed 
them, etc. They had been 200 behind in the operating room the 
night before so you can imagine the condition of many of them. 
All we'd been able to do the night before was to cut their 
clothes off and lift them into bed. There was one American 
and he was dying. Miss Headley stayed with him all afternoon 



108 INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 

and I went home to sleep. Miss Headley and Miss Wilson had 
to be on call again for the American Hospital during the night, 
so at 8 I went on with MacKenzie. He came from Lexington 
and all through till morning when he wasn't delirious we talked 
about home. He died, after Miss Headley came on, at 7:30. I 
felt awfully as he was so nice and very pathetically homesick. 

After these things died down, we had about a week with 
very little to do, when Miss B. and Miss H. and Miss W. were 
suddenly sent off to Paris and I was left very much alone, but 
luckily went right to work at No. 14 at the top of the hill and 
was very much occupied, being day nurse for three boys, two 
Americans and one Frenchman. They told me all three were 
probably going to die, but thank goodness they didn't. After 
a week Miss Candish and I changed and I was on night duty 
there for five nights when as they didn't need me any more I 
took Mrs. Clarke's place on night duty at the American Hospi- 
tal. There I am now and probably will be until August. I am 
very flourishing and happy and my only cross is that I can 
never seem to rid myself of the smell of Dakins. I have to 
inject it every two hours all night and get so saturated that I 
have to use cologne before going to bed in the morning. I 
have twelve boys and like them all and as they all seem to be 
improving, the ward is more cheerful every day. 

I hear you carried out your plan of nursing through your 
vacation. I'm sure you must have loved it but hope you're 
getting a little rest in somewhere on the side. There was 
nothing very restful about the office as I remember it. 

How is Miss Weaver, and also Miss Hawley and all the rest? 
Give them my best love. Perhaps when this night duty is over 
I'll get a day or two in Paris and can come and see you all. 
Will you come to a meal at Pruniers with me? 

I must stop and get dressed. Nothing I can say can tell 
you how glad I've been to be here for these two months. 
Thank you a hundred times for sending me. 

Looking forward to seeing you at the end of the month, 

Affectionately, 

FRANCES WEBSTER. 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 109 

Paris, July 14, 1918. 
To A. G. 

This is to be a great day. I am at present in a roonrat the 
Red Cross, just on the corner of the Place de la Concorde and 
the Rue Royale. We have a splendid view — the Madelaine and 
the Place. The crowd is immense in spite of the fact that Paris 
is supposed to be empty. Everyone seems excited and jubilant 
— one would think a big victory was being celebrated. A dele- 
gation has just passed bearing a big wreath to be placed on the 
Alsace Lorraine Statue. Miss Maxwell is with me and as en- 
thusiastic as a young girl — she is so satisfactory to do things 
with. 

Some day we will all be celebrating the final victory— will 
it bring the world peace? I doubt it. It will just bring about 
a long exhausted period of rest when strength will be stored 
for a future combat. This sounds pessimistic, but I begin to 
believe that it is inherent in man to fight. 

Later. 

The parade has passed, and we have cheered and shouted 
until we are exhausted. There seemed to be some special 
reason for cheering each company as it passed by, and a French 
girl expressed our feelings when she darted from under the 
arm of the gendarmes, and kissed each standard-bearer. The 
English, American, Italian, Poles, Serbs, Greeks, Australians, 
Canadians, New Zealanders, and even Portuguese made up the 
parade. Of course flowers were freely given; the poilus were 
literally laden, their knapsacks full and bunches on the ends of 
bayonets— our men are not allowed to carry them. The Eng- 
lish marched the best and they made a splendid showing. 

In the afternoon I went to the Trocadero where a big 
patriotic meeting was held. Twelve of our aids helped sell 
programs. Viviani was the orator of the day, and most of the 
program was taken up with eulogies of America. I was terribly 
disappointed in the singing of the Marseillaise at the end. 
There was an immense crowd, and I expected something stir- 
ring, but no one joined in with chorus who sat on the stage, 



110 INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 

and a group of Frenchmen behind me talked all the time the 
soloist was singing it. 

All night last night we could hear the big guns at the front 
and Big Bertha has been shelling us all day. I have not heard 
what damage has been done — people pay very little attention 
to it. Now that the moon is visiting us again I suppose the 
air raids will begin. 



Paris, July 18, 1918. 
To L. McL. 

Yesterday I wrote you a letter so this will be just a few 
lines to tell you that Mary Eyre met a man from Dick's regi- 
ment yesterday and that he gave a fine report of Dick, had 
seen him the day before and that he is up for his lieutenantcy, 
had passed his physical and there seemed to be no doubt about 
the result of the mental. I hope he gets a leave soon. I am 
saving mine to join him somewhere. 

I have had such sweet letters from the Farm children telling 
me about my birthday. Porter was there, took the children 
some candy. Frank, Mrs. Griffith's chauffeur, gave the children 
a phonograph in honor of the day. Wasn't that touching? 
One little girl wrote me "You do not know me, but I wish to 
thank you for the book you sent me and tell you what a lovely 
time we had at your party, but the day seemed out of place 
without you." Wasn't that charmingly expressed? Little Ca- 
mille wrote such a nice letter and Patsy, with his poor little 
crippled hands, writes remarkably well. I like to think of them 
all having such happy times on the Farm. I wonder how long 
it will be before I wander through the vegetable garden with 
Camille expounding the wonders of it to me; no vegetables 
here taste so good as those. The artichokes are impossible, 
huge, big old things impossible to eat anything but the heart. 
The peaches and cherries are delicious, the rest of the fruit 
poor and so expensive, strawberries (large ones very tasteless) 
were one franc a piece, season very short, there were none in 
the markt after June 20th and peaches 5 francs a piece at small 
places, 3 at the cheaper. I bought none, they are cheaper now, 
1 franc. Food is very plentiful, but very high, 3 meatless days, 
very little sugar, otherwise all you want if you pay for it. It 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 111 

costs us $100 per month to live, hotel and laundry, we wash 
small pieces. 

We hear that the boys in this battle are not so badly 
wounded as the Marines were in May. 

American Ambulance, Neuilly, July 21, 1918. 
To A. G. 

This is just a line to tell you that I am too rushed to write. 
I volunteered out here at the American Ambulance yesterday, 
Sunday, and came out this morning at 7 a. m., taking French 
leave from the office. If I am shot at dawn for deserting I 
intend to look after our wounded instead of well baby clinics. 
I dragged all the nurses into it Saturday I could possibly lay 
hands on, have persuaded all the women doctors to give ether 
(they are only too glad to do it). The doctors are working 
night and day, 2,800 men passed through. 

I am waiting now for a telephone message. On Saturday I 
went up towards the front in an ambulance to bring back a 
wounded nurse. We had a fearful trip, it took us three and a 
half hours to get back, we arrived at 1:30 a. m., the patient 
perfectly exhausted, but so plucky. I couldn't get a word out 
of her, all those hours, when sometimes she was nearly jolted 
off the stretcher, but "I am all right, it is nothing compared 
with what the badly wounded suffer." She was wounded in the 
back, not seriously. When I tell you that I rode in that ambu- 
lance for 11 hours, with one half hour off for dinner and was 
not dead tired when I got home, you can know that I have 
some pep left in me yet. 

I just ran out to see a battle in the air, a day raid from the 
Boche, but couldn't see much, just flashes. 

The spirit is simply wonderful among the boys, coming and 
going, they are always cheerful, smiling and joking all the time; 
every one is crazy about them, and now they are all so excited 
and eager to get back, as every little while news of victory 
comes in, if we can only keep it up, pushing back steadily. But 
we must be content with every gain and not expect to keep 
up this big effort, all of the allies except ourselves are to 
exhausted, I fear. The men say that a number of Hun women 
have been captured, one a Captain, it seems incredible, but one 
believes almost anything, it is all so impossible. 



112 INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 



Later. 



The wounded continue to pour in night and day, it is impos- 
sible to handle them properly. I am on duty in the receiving 
ward (a big garage which holds about 100 stretchers, packed 
so closely together you can't step between). I try to make the 
men a little more comfortable by feeding them and poking 
little pillows under aching wounds to keep them off the iron 
bars of stretchers, bless those foolish little pillows, nothing 
gives more comfort. We never hear a complaint night or day, 
just smiling thanks, it is so wonderful, a big Red Cross man 
told me their smiles made him cry; many are only looked over 
and sent on. We can't keep any but serious cases, an ampu- 
tated case, if in good condition is not considered serious. 



(The writer of the following is the nurse from Waltham 
mentioned in Miss Ashe's leters.) 

July 22, 1918. 
My dear Miss Ashe. 

If we continue to have as interesting a time as at present, 
we shall all be completely demoralized as far as going back to 
Paris is concerned. Did you know that our Beauvais formation 
split in two sections a week ago — one-half to stay there and 
the other half to form a flying squadron to go wherever the 
need was greatest? I was forunate enough to be assigned to 
the half that was flying, and we have had the most interesting 
time. We took equipment enough, even to a chef, to start a 
hospital and came by camions to Chantilly, where we joined a 
French auto chir and although we are off in our own comer, 
we work along with them. 

We are to stay here as long as the blesses come in from this 
front and when they stop we are either to go back to Beauvais 
or to move on where the work is heavier. It's a wonderful 
experience and we love the sort of g3^sy life we lead. With 
this heavenly weather it's a joy to work out under the trees 
and practically live out of doors. 

The wards are under canvas and we have put up a small 
portable operating room. We bought the equipment from Beau- 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 113 

vais and it is the cutest place. It rocks and shakes like a boat 
when we are working there, but "ca ne fait rien" — for the boys 
are being rushed through with real American speed and we 
know that the doctors have saved a great deal of gas gangrene. 
The first cases we did were nearly all infected with g. g. 
because they had been lying out in the fields for several days 
up at the front. But now they are getting them down quicker, 
and by keeping at it every minute we keep up with the proces- 
sion and the boys do not have to wait around all day before 
getting attention. We are on eight-hour shifts, and everyone 
is keeping remarkably fresh and fit. Twenty nurses came down 
from Paris and joined us and fifteen more went to Beauvais 
to take our places there, for after we left they had a large con- 
voy come in. I have done nothing but anesthetizing ever since 
I joined Dr. Moorhead's formation, and it is a wonderful ex- 
perience, although a bit out of my line. 

Have you been up to Chantilly? It is quite the prettiest 
town I have seen in France and the Chateau de Chantilly is a 
beautiful place. The park surrounding it covers miles of forest 
and the vistas through the bridle paths and walks are the work 
of a genius. But you can't get away from the war even there 
for there are several auto chirs on the open fields and ambu- 
lances are chasing in and out every minute. Also, thousands of 
German prisoners march through every day or so, and some 
have come into us as patients. 

Our boys are elated over their success and their stories are 
thrilling. I rather hate to see them so blood thirsty, for the 
height of their ambition is to get a Boche, but their enthusiasm 
can't help but be infectious and the French love it. 

Very sincerely, 

ELMIRA W. BEARS. 



114 INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 

Paris, July 29, 1918. 
To A. G. 

Yesterday being Sunday I didn't have a moment in which to 
write you even a line, this nursing business is fatal to Sunday 
letters. I leave so eariy in the morning that letters before are 
impossible, and by night I am so dead tired that it is a physical 
impossibility. But yesterday I had a very pleasant change, the 
work was not nearly so heavy as all of our corridor patients 
were evacuated and an aide was sent to help me. So I left early 
in time to be able to have a hot restful bath before going to 
dine at Colonel Cutcheon's apartment, where he keeps house 
most luxuriously with three other men. Colonel Cutcheon is one 
of Mr. Byrne's partners, the whole firm (also Mr. Carl Taylor, 
a very fine man), calmly packed up and came over, leaving the 
law business to get on as best it may. Walter Damrosch was 
there at dinner and I don't know when I have had such an 
interesting time. We discussed all the problems of the uni- 
verse. Helen and I were the only women, it was a real treat 
to hear those interesting intelligent men talk freely of funda- 
mentals. I decided not to go to the hospital this morning, as 
Dr. Lucas returned Saturday and there are important matters 
which must be taken up with him. 

There is one comfort about things over here, it shows people 
up in their true colors and if one only has patience, the dross 
is swept away in time, for the men at the head are very fine 
types and don't stand for what is not right. 

Dr. Lucas was welcomed with open arms and such a sigh 
of relief. He looks splendidly and has told me so much about 
home and you. He was delighted with his lunch on the Hill 
and says Armand de Lillie was much impressed by the Farm. 
Barbara writes me that you are going to abbreviate the chil- 
dren's clothes for the sun treatment, — it really should be done, 
the results from that are quite wonderful. I want to go into it 
really scientifically when I return. I hope to be able to visit 
the famous Switzerland place where the children are practically 
naked in the snow. I was very much interested in all you 
wrote about the Lucas' visit. 

He was very much impressed by the work being done 
on the Hill and thinks it would be all wrong for Miss 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 115 

Johnson to leave it. I feel quite sure that the military necessity 
has not come yet for her and I doubt if she could stand the 
strain. Of course her value would be in giving ether, but the 
strain in that work is terrific, they have to work at times several 
days and nights without rest and it is so harrowing. I find the 
work perfectly exhausting, the men suffer so and it is so diffi- 
cult to give them any relief whenever a limb is either shatered 
or badly wounded. I have a boy who has a compound fracture 
of tibia — wounds in both legs, both above and below the knees 
and has been burned by mustard gas over the greater part of 
his back, which is raw — he simply has to lie on his back on 
account of his arm which is suspended by a frame; there are 
hundreds of this type of case in the hospital; one nurse has 
charge of 65 patients with 3 aides to help her. I have really 
been taking the place of an aide as I am too uncertain to be 
put in charge of a big ward or floor. I did manage last week 
to get my 15 patients bathed, which was a relief as they had not 
had a bath since before the battle. I just couldn't stand it and 
made a herculean effort which nearly killed me, but I feel well 
repaid, it was too dreadful to have those filthy men in bed. But 
I feel as if I could never more complain of any physical pain 
after seeing what the men suffer in silence, of course there is 
always an occasional one who complains and does not bear it 
well, but the others have so much contempt for him that he is 
soon reduced to silence; they don't hesitate to express their 
opinions in forcible language, brutally frank. Some poor weak 
fellow will be groaning and moaning and he is told to get a 
bottle with a nipple and suck it or some such comforting thing. 
I feel awfully sorry for the man with little grit, he does not have 
an easy time. 

Mary Eyre comes out to distribute cigaretes, she seems to 
like her work. I saw Masie Hammond and Sarah Cunningham 
at Juiy when I went for our wounded nurse, they both seemed 
well and doing good work. Everyone says that the aides I 
have trained are the finest workers in France. I am awfully 
proud of them, because I have always made a point of getting 
into the closest possible personal relations with them and im- 
pressing on them the fact that the whole aide situation would 
be judged by their conduct; they do whatever they are told to 
do wihout question and I think are a very remarkable group of 



llg INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 

young women. The nurses are a little jealous of my interest 
in them but I felt that I must make a great effort to prove their 
value. 



Paris, August 2, 1918. 
To E. S. 

Such a good letter come from you yesterday and I hasten 
to answer it as I have an unexpected half hour this morning 
before going to the hospital. As Miss Griffith has told you I 
have an erratic way of suddenly leaving my bureau at the call 
of the wounded and appearing unexpectedly at the hospital, at 
the critical moment, where I am greeted with open arms. Then 
I come back so dead tired at the end of a week or so that no 
one has the heart to scold me. But to sit in that office dic- 
tating letters, knowing that those poor boys are actually suffer- 
ing for the most rudimentary care, is beyond my powers of en- 
durance. When Dr. Lucas returned Saturday, I was not there 
and the first tale of complaint he heard was of riie. But of 
course being a big-hearted red-blooded man he said "that's fine, 
it's just right." I must say I was relieved because one hates to 
appear insubordinate and irresponsible. Now that I have his 
sanction I can really do both things better. I try to get to the 
office for an hour or two every day, which keeps things moving 
very smoothly. My secretary is a brilliant jewel — only twenty- 
one years old and so clever and attractive. 

One of the doctors has just come in to tell me that a trains 
load of wounded came in last night which means that 350 men 
have been brought to the hospital and are lying in all stages 
of discomfort over the floors, lawns, corridors and in fact 
wherever they can find floor space for them as they have to be 
undressed, fed and many things done for them before they 
find rest. They usually arrive on the stretchers without pillows, 
their heads resting on the iron cross bars. The suffering these 
poor fellows go through absolutely without a complain is heroic 
beyond words. I can't get used to it, it is all I can do to con- 
trol myself as I kneel beside them tucking those little pillows 
under their poor shattered bodies. 

I must tell you of a remarkable incident which occurred here 
last week when the big offensive began. A number of Red 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 117 

Cross workers were at the station receiving the wounded — giv- 
ing them water and comforting them as they waited to be 
moved to the hospital. Mrs. Bacon was leaning over a boy 
helping him, when she heard a feeble voice behind her call 
"Mother" and turning she found her own boy lying there. I 
am sure that meeting started a wave of homesickness through 
these fallen ranks. Mrs. Bacon went to the hospital with her 
boy, left him there and returned to her post for the rest of the 
day. 

I really must go to the hospital. Please thank Mrs. Heller 
again for the money, some day soon, I am going to have Miss 
Byrne make out a little statement of some of the people we 
help. I hope people will not mind my very erratic way of 
helping, but I give at the time when I feel the need is greatest, 
most unscientifically. I feel sometimes like Mr. Bender who 
said once that he looked first up the street to see if Miss Felton 
was in sight, then down for Miss Pexiotto before giving a man 
a quarter for a meal! 



Paris, August 5, 1918. 
To A. G. 

Yesterday I had a day off, the first in many weeks. I went 
to the hospital as usual at 7 a. m., but found I was not needed, 
as twenty nurses had most unexpectedly appeared. I was glad 
as I was pretty tired, and besides wanted to go to the anni- 
versary service at the English Ambassador's church. I gathered 
up quite a party to go with us, including Helen Cheseborough. 
It was a wonderful service. I like the service always at that 
church better than any service I have attended for years — it is 
so hearty — generally more men than women, who lift up their 
voices and pray and sing as if they meant it. They all sing 
through the entire service, even the Te Deum. 

Well, yesterday the church was packed and when those men 
sang "Onward, Christian Soldiers," after a splendid sermon 
from an army chaplain who always goes over the top with the 
boys, the roof nearly came off, and cold shivers went up and 
down my back. You should have heard them shout "On to 
victory!" If you could have had 2my doubt of the ultimate 
result, then and there it must have been dispelled — those grim 



118 INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 

looking men never mean to stop until they have triumphed 
over the powers of darkness! 

The chaplain was a wonder — ^he actually swore several times, 
but made me take an oath never again to express the slightest 
doubt but that complete victory would end war for all time 
among civilized nations. I will in future hold to that thought 
even if I know it can not be. 



Coincy, August 10, 1918. 
My dear Miss Ashe. 

I was so pleased to receive your letter this morning and 
to seem to get in touch with you once more. I am so sorry 
not to have seen you in Paris, for I think this last move is a 
more permanent one, and unless our boys keep up this wonder- 
ful chase and leave us miles behind, we are apt to "rester ici" 
until fall. 

This last move has been quite thrilling. We came across 
country in camions — about 30 miles and the ride was a con- 
tinuous change of "war scenery," starting through the villages 
which the Germans invaded in 1914, the ruins being covered 
now with vines and flowers, and the inhabitants taking up the 
old routine of life once more in a protected corner of their 
homes, — and passing on to the district that the Germans have 
made their homes for months, — through miles of screened 
roads, acres of barbed wire entanglements, trenches and dug- 
outs — and finally into the region where the Americans have 
swept all before them these last four weeks. We were so 
covered with dust that under ordinary circumstances we should 
have been cross and uncomfortable, but I felt much more in 
tune with my surrounding, with my face stiff and my beloved 
(?) blue coat a beautiful grey. Only my eyes were free and I 
saw to it that there was no obstacle in the way of my "seeing 
history.** We stopped long enough to inspect the most wonder- 
ful dugouts — long underground passages and tiny rooms, all 
solidly built and fine examples of German thoroughness, but 
the last occupants were Americans. 

We found one group of 25 graves, all Massachusetts boys, 
who were buried within two weeks. The roads are covered 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 119 

with unexploded hand grenades and shells, and you truly 
"watch your step" when you are sight-seeing. 

Chateau Thierry is a pathetic sight—a city completely 
ruined but simply teeming with life,— the American army. Every- 
where in this region it is a rare sight to see anyone but an 
American, except the French troops leaving this front for 
another, and even though we read the papers and know that 
our boys are pouring into the country we simply can't believe 
our eyes, for we have seen them pass for hours and hours both 
ways, and every nook and comer is filled with them. We have 
an ambulance corps of 110 men with our formation, all from 
the South. We talked with groups all the way up and our 
Massachusetts men are all around us, so I shall not be sur- 
prised to see someone I know only I hope he won't be on a 
stretcher, with bullets and eclats to be hunted for. 

We ran to one side of the road once to allow four of our 
boys, all mounted, to pass with a long line of German prison- 
ers. It was a wonderful moment, we couldn't cheer for it 
seemed too impressive, the boys were so characteristically 
American and so proud of their job and they solemnly saluted 
us. It seemed so significant of what the near future surely 
holds for us, our lively young Americans, full of life and vitality, 
can spell but one word to these stolid, tired German boys, and 
they looked as if they fully realized it. 

We shall still be some days organizing, but we are putting 
up a tent hospital for 800 beds and most of our personnel is 
here and will be reinforced at once, of course. We still have 
a small group both at Beauvais and Chantilly, but this will be 
a small city when we are fully equipped. We are only 12 miles 
from the front and at night we can see the flash from the guns 

and the artillery signals. The guns always seem loud at B 

but they actually keep us awake up here, and we find ourselves 
getting all stirred up and unable to sleep when we know it is 
our Americans who are up there a few miles beyond hammer- 
ing away. 

This field we are on was a battle field not more than two 
weeks ago and we came here in time to see some unmistak- 
able signs of a hurried retreat, loads of ammunition, two beauti- 
fully camouflaged machine guns, some forgotten Boches and 
horses and all sorts of souvenirs — helmets, bayonets, guns, etc. 



120 INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 

Yesterday p. m. three of the girls took shovels and actually 
went up on the hill and buried one unfortunate — or perhaps 
fortunate Boche, and even put up the regulation cross over 
him. The roads and country are simply peppered with shell 
holes and there isn't a whole house for miles. Some of the 
houses have been utterly wrecked, even the faces cut out of the 
portraits. 

We have a heavenly view from our hill, miles and miles of 
rolling country, with long roads like ribbons winding in and 
out among the hills, always in motion with long lines of troops 
and supplies, blue coming down and khaki going in. The boys 
from an aviation camp near start off in squadrons, go over the 
lines and in a few hours we count them as they come back. 
It is just as well that we have a few days here to get our 
equilibrium or we should have a sad time trying to work and 
not miss anything at the same time. Our ambulance boys are 
inside the tent we have been leaning up against, entertaining us 
with Southern songs, accompanied by a mandoline and some- 
times a violin. They are great and we are between hysterics 
at their camp songs and tears at some of our old home songs. 
It's a bit distracting for my letter but it seems so good to be 
"all-American" once more. What a change from last year is 
the present routine life and business of our nation! 

Last night some of us walked over a few miles to see one 
of the placements where "Big Bertha" held forth for a while. 
It is a marvelous piece of work — exactly like a railway turn- 
table, with a well built track up to it, and it is so heavy that 
their attempts to blow it up before they left it only curled up 
the corners. Everything about it was well camouflaged and 
there is a guard over it. About 100 of our boys arrived about 
the same time we did and among them was one who came 
form a mobile unit near us and he said Miss Evans was here. 
Dr. Woodroffe will remember her last winter at the Royal on 
her way South on account of chillblains. I am going to look 
her up this evening. 

Signed E. B. 



INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 121 



Paris, August 12, 1918. 
To A. G. 

This has been a very quiet, uneventful week for me, although 
"Big Bertha" has kept things a little lively. I spent one day 
inspecting a very interesting place for delicate children near 
Paris at Hachette. It is really four places, a hospital for chil- 
dren where they are kept for ten days before going either to 
the convalescent home or the hospital, and then a big place 
with 150 beds for convalescent or delicate children. The latter 
is being run by Miss Dabney. She is doing well at Hachette. 
She is a very fine capable woman and I am glad she is there. 

But I must tell you about Mrs. Post, who is here from Mor- 
laix. She has developed her work wonderfully since I was 
there last year, and quite cheered me by telling me that I had 
been a real help. She tells me that she carried out all my ideas 
even to pruning the trees. You see, I arrived just as she was 
about to build expensive shelters for the children when I 
showed her how she could get splendid results with her plant 
just as it was. She quickly took the idea and says it has worked 
ideally. She has even introduced pottery at my suggestion. 
This had become a lost art. She is having the tubercular 
women make it, and says it is a great success— that they make 
lovely shapes. I was really awfully pleased about it, as although 
I enjoyed my trip to Brittany more than anything I have done 
since I have been here, I felt that it had been a waste of time. 
Mrs. Post has seventy children in her day camp. She says 
that the improvement in them is marvellous. She also has a 
hospital, and dispensaries scattered all throughout Finisterre. 

I am going to start out tonight on a tour of inspection, and 
expect to travel pretty steadily this next month. I go today to 
Blois, and Friday to Sermaise, which is not far from Chalons. 
Yesterday I had a very quiet, restful time; we got an 
old fiacre, took a guide book, and spent the afternoon sight- 
seeing in a leisurely manner. I think it did us all good . It is 
just one year ago today since we arrived in Paris. Of the 
original group who came, only Dr. Lucas, Miss Gilder, Dr. 
Baldwin, and I are left. Dr. Baldwin leaves for home in a day 
or two. 

Last night I dined with Mr. Macdonough; I do not know 



122 INTIMATE LETTERS FROM FRANCE 

if you remember him— he is a great friend of Mr. Eyre's. His 
son had been here only about a week or two when he was 
killed in his first engagement. Helen Byrne knew him well, 
he was a fine fellow. 

I fear the loss of life among our men has been very high, 
but let us pray that their over-zealousness may have given such 
an impetus to the retreat that the Huns won't stop until they 
have crossed the Rhine. I cannot help hugging to my heart 
the hope that the fruit of the sacrifice our boys have made of 
their young lives will be victory in the near future, not another 
year of war. Let us pray. 



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